Into the dark.
Friday 19 August 2011
Wednesday 10 August 2011
Thought trains
I know it has been long once again. Flooded by waves of assignment and school work, sometimes i feel unmotivated to write anything at all. But then again, that may be my plain laziness.
Just got back from celebrating my adopted countries national day. Well, adopted for me, but perhaps not from their perspective, for there's still a label attached to me that says I'm permanently residing in the country, yet not completely part of it yet. I would not go in the politics of that, in fear of incurring the wrath of a nation. But yes, for me at least, i certainly feel that i'm part of the country. And perhaps, one day i will be.
Its wierd how thought trains go across the vast plains of (in)sanity, one moment you could be singing and shouting loudly, as part of the crowd, part of the weeking shouting tirades of the brave new world, The next moment drinking beer, as i drown into my proletariat sorrows, becoming one with the working population, unthinking, mind numbed by the chemical made by the fermentation of wheat by yeast. Yet a few moments later, it is here, in the region of whimsical thought, of perhaps, maybes and what ifs of the future. A sudden rethink of my future prospect, well, not a sudden rethink, more of a affirmation. An idealistic affirmation, but nonetheless something i hope to accomplish one day.
And therein lies all the conflict of oneself, and the trappings of life. The eternal struggle between ideals and pragmatism. The car or the donation to the Aids foundation, the house or the home, The body in the casket, or the transplantation of skin to burn victims. I am glad to be of a relatively rare, yet unneeded blood type, namely AB+, that i am spared from the dillemma of donations, which perhaps is the first of these conflicts of life. I am young, and by definition, idealistic. I ,while on the ride home, thought of donating all but a minimal amount of my salary to charity, of perhaps one day being able to then write a biography titled 'The richest man on earth' or 'The poorest doctor', of perhaps one day emulating my heroes of aiding the poor, and healing the sick. And then you might tell me, 'hey, isnt that the wrong kind of motivation?' To be honest, I don't have a clue. I know not whether i'm right or wrong. Hopefully more right than wrong.
slightly less than 3 and a half year to go. Lets see how i think 3 years down the road shall we?
Compassion.
Just got back from celebrating my adopted countries national day. Well, adopted for me, but perhaps not from their perspective, for there's still a label attached to me that says I'm permanently residing in the country, yet not completely part of it yet. I would not go in the politics of that, in fear of incurring the wrath of a nation. But yes, for me at least, i certainly feel that i'm part of the country. And perhaps, one day i will be.
Its wierd how thought trains go across the vast plains of (in)sanity, one moment you could be singing and shouting loudly, as part of the crowd, part of the weeking shouting tirades of the brave new world, The next moment drinking beer, as i drown into my proletariat sorrows, becoming one with the working population, unthinking, mind numbed by the chemical made by the fermentation of wheat by yeast. Yet a few moments later, it is here, in the region of whimsical thought, of perhaps, maybes and what ifs of the future. A sudden rethink of my future prospect, well, not a sudden rethink, more of a affirmation. An idealistic affirmation, but nonetheless something i hope to accomplish one day.
And therein lies all the conflict of oneself, and the trappings of life. The eternal struggle between ideals and pragmatism. The car or the donation to the Aids foundation, the house or the home, The body in the casket, or the transplantation of skin to burn victims. I am glad to be of a relatively rare, yet unneeded blood type, namely AB+, that i am spared from the dillemma of donations, which perhaps is the first of these conflicts of life. I am young, and by definition, idealistic. I ,while on the ride home, thought of donating all but a minimal amount of my salary to charity, of perhaps one day being able to then write a biography titled 'The richest man on earth' or 'The poorest doctor', of perhaps one day emulating my heroes of aiding the poor, and healing the sick. And then you might tell me, 'hey, isnt that the wrong kind of motivation?' To be honest, I don't have a clue. I know not whether i'm right or wrong. Hopefully more right than wrong.
slightly less than 3 and a half year to go. Lets see how i think 3 years down the road shall we?
Compassion.
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