Contemplation

Silly Face: There’s been a good change in my life recently, well, that is rather will have been a good change in my life. Some of those who found themeselves around me found themselves cheery or indifferent or sadly full of envy. There are, though, still a numbered few, whom I ought to have shared the news with.

However, most I believe would rather hear the news before throwing arms around me, a couple are out of the country and would not appreciate the physical limitation of distance, and one whom I only manage to dial their number but never been able to push that damn ‘call’ button. Never mind the news, you’ll probably hear it from someone closer than I to you before you hear it from myself.

Lost Face:I sometimes pretend to be a complete idiot, so as to amuse myself. Sometimes I don’t need to pretend to be an idiot because I sometimes do what idiots do.

Perhaps you’d care to take the previous two sentences as an example, or perhaps you’d rather validate this idea by knowing that I have let myself, yet again, fall into an impossible situation of boy being meeting girl being under peculiar circumstances and complicated near futures whereby neither one of us can bring him/her self to a less complicated state of affairs.

Brave Face: Change, I recently sought in my recent daily life, and a shuffle and a cut I rather got. So, I find myself spliting and doubling and matching and only sometimes I risk it, only to find that almost often playing the wrong game.

Sometimes I get friendly players who let me off without a warning. Other times I don’t even get a warning.

Perfection dictates standards. To some, these words hum positively to their ears. They threaten life with limitations to others.

Only just now I have understood why I have not been able to succeed in certain things in life. At least, I have found insight into what I had perceived as a mental obstacle. I can’t remember exactly when, but one day, many years ago, someone somewhere planted in my wandering mind the hideous idea that “practice makes perfect”.

To someone whose life have been rocked high and low with dreams and ambitions and faint promises, the furthest thought I’d want to contemplate is accepting that optimal existence requires perfection; that things ought to be in a certain flawless way, without impurities, and simply, but most sophisticatedly, highly purposeful.

Fortunately, only to my recent realization, aided by a blues-note, I found that loosening up a bit is not such a bad idea. Perhaps I’ll continue living by numbers, only now I won’t be rounding them up and instead keep the fractions intact.

Practice ought to be fun, inspiring, and improving. It certainly ought not to make perfect.

Image and display are not entirely inherent properties of the form, or so lately it seem to me. Perfection, in a model, used to refer to flawless, logical, and harmonious attributes that limit limitations to none.

It was hard to see beauty construed within such a rigid mind frame. Beauty, and all other good things like peace and happiness and contentment and love, for that matter. I had seen them all before, but it was rare. However, whereby I took the lack and the imperfection and the unclarity as reasons to shy away without regard from what was brought upon me in life, now I take as a source of definition and identity and uniqueness.

I used to pay undivided attention to beauty.
Now I take my time.
I blink a little longer.

And I see something new.
Something good.
Something beautiful.

Dreams and fantasies of a getaway from where everything else is have always been appealing. To leave the old world, the modern city life, and head to a world of unset rules, waiting to be shaped and molded into a unique, unnecessarily perfect, and often flawed ones; much like what this world has, only different.

I had previously thought that I would be required to travel a great deal of distance, and probably time as well, to reach such place. However, these proved to be unnecessary, and changing one’s mindset had done the trick. Still, where intent to change was sought, it never occurred, and it had been forced instead.

That was when I had almost lost my life in an incidental near-accident; a near car crash, because of a nearly unstable person, who was nearly verging on insanity, nearly regaining control of his soon-swerving-soon-mid-air-flying car, and nearly missing mine. His nearly fainting headlights had nearly flickered away, and my nearly lost innocence was nearly found. I drove. He crashed. A big part of him survived that dawn. A big part of me did not.

Always did they dwell on the idea of how one’s whole life flashes before one’s eyes, instantly, and how one’s future would be painted with beautiful colors of gratitude. Far from that, to me, my world never stopped but I did, not merely being stuck in a moment, but it had ended altogether. This, it had not struck my world but it struck me.

That morning, I had found myself burning up, nauseous, and almost but not entirely consumed by the fact that the change I had been seeking was forced upon me. For a moment or two I had been interrupted by thoughts that I would tend to dwell on a day before, however, they would soon fade into my shocked mind.

I had stayed in the next day, locked myself in, trying to make sense of something and anything. It puzzled me why my logic seemed flaky, and why I had to find reasons to rationalize some thoughts that had already been considered to follow common sense. This was frustrating, specially for someone who has grown up a scientist. Quite unsettling it was to find myself searching for seemingly alternative facts that support seemingly vague conclusions. I had realized then that I was creating a different world around me.

Now, time feels bulky, seconds came only in minutes and minutes only came in hours. However, days only broke down to mornings, afternoons, and evenings. To-day was day-1, and to-morrow will also be so. It is challenging to finish some jobs that had been put on-hold a couple of weeks ago, difficult to relate to relationships that had been formed recently, and somewhat confusing to plug back into reality after spacing out so frequently every now and then.

Fragile and tender it feels, though, with a sweeter hint of freedom. No longer overwhelmed with questions and answers and beginnings and ends, the journey seems to have captivated me.

When life has a change of heart, it draws different routes for us. Still, with the same ends, only by different means.

Nanonovella VII:

Jaded, he took to his night with innocence
shocked, struck, and night dawned away with it
Confused, he took to his day with silence
ceased, broken, and absent his words spoke of it

Pixies inspire me. This is for one that wanted to escape to an island far away from where everything else is.

Nanonovella VI

A tiny island you are
a fading horizon surrounds you
where the old world faded without you
A tiny island you are
where I found love and peace
where I lost myself and found you

To those who have left us.

Nanonovella V:

Smiles, draw on our faces
of fading face we cherished
Fading no more they leave empty spaces
to a home in our hearts forever more

To regain that sense of being serenely composed, one may find solace from within and consolation from without.

Nanonovella IV:

The skin remembers
what memories echo
of a touched soul
and a dwelling mind

Rewriting letters is really hard; to think back to the exact emotional state is way too heartbreaking.

Nanonovella III: Words

Whispers, ever so overwhelming, quiver my core.
Trembling, whispering your name captivates it.
Though joy and relief it brings me.
Grants me hope, to keep promised whispers, forever more.

I have so far been successful in avoiding the horrible events that some have decided to present us during such a festive time. I have also deliberately refrained from writing about it, mainly because I refuse to jump in amongst idiots to end up with a pointless row.

However, glancing so swiftly at the newspapers and some blogs these past few days to notice the (not so) pleasant news about our (not so) safe Bahrain, a thought revisited me since it last did when I had started a “straight-forward-times” blog. Perhaps people could do with a “good news” reporter, or, quite disturbingly yet so plausibly, people could do with a “bad news” reporter. I reckon that readers wouldn’t be satisfied either way, not the Bahraini public at least.

Why? Because “good news” will be regarded as being spin-doctored and “bad news” will be regarded as being incitive. Because the majority of Bahrainis have some sort of extreme neurotic attributional bias; i.e. if its good then its because of internal factors (because of us), and if its bad then its because of external factors (because of them). The majority’s thinking is logically flawed by the lack of subjectivity, bias, historical hatred and narcissism.

I snapped out of it, and thought to myself of how pointless it would be to try and report good news (or even bad news) to the public. Its already hard to find “good things” to cover, and bad news will only be taken any way but constructively.

I started feeling some depressive mood creeping in, but then I was save by another thought, derived from my passion for linguistics and communication. “People need dialogue!!”, I so simply figured. Perhaps the public could do better with hearing what they, only so far, think is the opposite opinion.

Scrutiny is ever so unresolvable when it comes to news of events, incidents, and happenings. It is less problematic when we have dialogue. We can simply talk some more. I don’t think we’ll have a problem there, for all we do is talk.

Do you have something to say?