Sunday, May 06, 2007
Musings of a Maple Leaf
One of my classmates is a Deviant! O_o;; Her art was fantastic. I wish I had the time to deviate as well, but I guess my only opportunities would be during a long break, because I can't see myself sketching, inking, scanning, adding layers, colouring in and shading all in one day. Unless, of course, I do simple stuff, like chibis. But unfortunately, crunch time is near, what with all the essays and the exams. I feel as though I haven't the space to inhale!
So, I've taken to Mapling as a good way to de-stress. If one can't destroy one's monsters clinging to one's back, one might as well endeavour to destroy cute 2D ones. It's the best alternative I've found so far, instead of moping over all this academic bull****. Even reading mangas make me feel guilty, along the lines of: why am I reading manga right now??? I should be holding some law-related ****ing case and studying for exams! Sometimes, I just wish my conscience would get with it, or GET LOST. This must be attributed to the fact that I was brought up in the study culture in S'pore, where good grades is a significant part of your identity, and not gender or race or whatever. In a way, yes, I'm lucky in that we don't have apartheid or something similar, but isn't this extreme meritocracy???
If I seem intense, do pardon me. It's 8.42am in the morning and I read somewhere that at this time, a person's stress level is highest, and it tapers down the later in the day it is. I think I read it in Cosmo. Wow. Such a good, reliable source of educated information. We should all do away with the thick tomes of textbooks and start going through past issues of Vogue and Famous.
Which reminds me. I was sitting alone at breakfast (again)...
Give me a moment to bemoan the fact that many people don't think breakfast is necessary. I need a moment of profound silence to pay the death of the breakfast sufficient respect. May it rest in peace and live forever thus in my heart, Amen.
As I was saying, I was sitting alone at breakfast and gazing into the sky and daydreaming like I always do about clouds moving sedately across the huge expanse of blue. Then I thought about a hill, a person, grass and the wind, and...
Invisible comb of the Lady.
Unnoticed but for
Its vanity.
And the exquisite crown
Grew green.
Casting shadow
On the beneath.
And I thought: How appropriate, how true. And for awhile I couldn't speak because it was so beautiful and perfect and ugly.
Some people say I'm pessimistic, and then others say I'm quite the opposite. I'd just like to clarify right now that I am neither of either of these ideals. I am a realist, not an idealist, and I believe in facing the truth of things. The truth hurts only because we, as frail and hole-riddled humans, cannot handle the starkness of it, and attempt to surround ourselves with a barricade of thoughts and ideas and excuses so that the truth is made murky and no longer rings sharp and true. An optimist ignores unwanted aspects of the truth, and a pessimist exaggerates the immensity of a truth. Me? I'd like to think that, even though I might dislike truth, and often times it hurts, but by accepting it and surrendering, I feel empowered to create my own truths: truths that I will mould out of my own hands and thus not be injured by it in the process; truths that I will not have to shield myself from, because they are MINE; truths that I might attempt to create from a flurry of lies.
And all I have said, are truths: my own.
That's why I love art. Art is a way of creating one's own truth, or one's lies, however you see it. It embraces everything, and yet it excludes everything else.
I see I've suddenly waxed melancholic. I guess sometimes I get sick of all the superficial bimbotic posts I make, and I want to make sense of who I really am. It's hard, isn't it? To define oneself indefinitely. To define is to clarify, and yet, to define is to restrict. Sometimes, I feel as though I'm in and out of this world. A part of me is grounded solid, absorbing and being influenced by incidents around me, and the other part of me is hovering in the air somewhere above my head, but no matter how far I crane my neck I can't make it out. All I know is that THAT part of me is constantly evaluating what I do, how I do it, when I do it, where I do it. And sometimes I ignore it, sometimes I embrace it, sometimes I feel like screaming and crying at it to stop watching my every move. But when it all comes down to it: I'm yelling at myself. Do I have a self? Or am I many selves condensed into a single entity? WHEN an I MYSELF, and WHEN am I someone else?
Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder if that's really me, or someone else, a total stranger that I'll never be able to identify. If it IS me, then how can I embrace myself? And everything I signify?
No wonder they say finding yourself is a lifelong journey. I just hope I hold on tight, and laugh with my eyes wide open.
Good thing I'm armed with comfort food: my strawberry-flavoured Hello Panda can. :) Oh, and my trusty bolster. The raggedy one I've had with me since forever.
...is what I said. Savvy?
8:34 am
friends
June 2006