Notice: This blog's format and theme is similar to ": in the beginning." But the character is obviously different. Enjoy!
All she did was smile. All she wanted was to lend a helping hand.
But they looked at her differently, as if they were looking at an inanimate object that wasn't supposed to be there.
All she did was ask a question, important enough for her to require an answer.
But they looked at her differently, as if they were looking at a rotting carcass. Their eyes were twitched to one side, eyebrows slanted towards the middle of their seemingly perfect faces, and mouths freezed in their icy frowns.
All she did was stop. All she did was sigh as her cries of help are reflected back as piercing arrows through her already disfigured heart.
But still they looked at her differently as she turned around and walked back from the hole in which she came from.
"Why can't you respect me? Why can't you listen to me?!" she cried, to the pictures abundant with the empty smiles of her so-called friends, eternalized forever in small metallic frames. She turned to a mirrored reflection of herself, and cried: "And you! Why do you cry? Why can't you speak for yourself? Why don't they respect you?!"
She took a framed picture, one that had a happy teenage boy with hands blindfolding her smiling face, and threw it with the little force she had left at the mirror.
With a loud sound, what remained of the mirror and the framed picture fell on the cold ceramic floor as the girl cried even harder. She could stand the sound of feet walking away from her, the hard arms slapping her tender cheeks, the empty lies created by her closest friends, the ensuing and painstaking drama that followed, and even the heartbreaking ends caused by irresponsible boyfriends that'd rather stay with any crowd opposite to her own.
But she can never ever get used to the eyes. The same judging eyes that scream out: "Look at me! I am god. You, my friend, are a failure. You were, is, and will be a failure for the rest of your life. Now begone, foul beast!" They seem to have a life of their own. A set of rules made especially by them: a standard that would finalized what each and every human being is like with a single specified movement of the eyes. No, never.
She wiped the last of her tears and made sure that she didn't look as if she had been crying; as if she had been vunerable. Slowly opening the bedroom door that would once again bring her to the rat-infested world that is her life, she felt the cold wind as another piercing comment swooshed beside her head.
Turning back to see where the it had landed, she grinned as the arrowhead pierced through the face of the boy in the now unidentified picture, ruined by the warm and salty tears that she had ever so long ago wanted to release.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Life
It is not too often that we stop and realize how wonderful our life is. How did I come to such an out of character view? Because the other authors of my blog had been sooo very kind in reminding me of the emo crap that I write, I thought I would go with a positive and optimistic view.
First of all, life is beautiful because I have internet. That's right, whereas millions of people are dying of famine and disease for lack of clean water, I am wasting energy over the internet over something I will probably laugh at for such stupidity. To have such luxuries such as internet is truly a beautiful thing indeed.
Second, life is beautiful because there is so much to love. So who cares if I hate a million, gazibillion quadratrillion objects, notions and ideas if I have love to spread around the world! The world goes around on love, not the movement of its iron core as scientists say. Silly scientists, instead of worrying over so many trivial things as global warming they should just spread their love so that the world won't be cold from such rati0nality and ruthless logic.
Life is beautiful as we are alive, to have live, to have the opportunity to cause ripples in the pond of life. To be able to make something of ourselves, to be able to believe in God. Those are truly blessings that we never notice as we let small insect bites like crap on shoes to interrupt the joy we should be experiencing for the fact that we are indeed alive and existing as we are given the opportunity to do so unlike so many unfortunate others who had lost the opportunity.
First of all, life is beautiful because I have internet. That's right, whereas millions of people are dying of famine and disease for lack of clean water, I am wasting energy over the internet over something I will probably laugh at for such stupidity. To have such luxuries such as internet is truly a beautiful thing indeed.
Second, life is beautiful because there is so much to love. So who cares if I hate a million, gazibillion quadratrillion objects, notions and ideas if I have love to spread around the world! The world goes around on love, not the movement of its iron core as scientists say. Silly scientists, instead of worrying over so many trivial things as global warming they should just spread their love so that the world won't be cold from such rati0nality and ruthless logic.
Life is beautiful as we are alive, to have live, to have the opportunity to cause ripples in the pond of life. To be able to make something of ourselves, to be able to believe in God. Those are truly blessings that we never notice as we let small insect bites like crap on shoes to interrupt the joy we should be experiencing for the fact that we are indeed alive and existing as we are given the opportunity to do so unlike so many unfortunate others who had lost the opportunity.
Dissatisfaction
Through the days in IB, I seldom stop and think after receiving the test papers followed by the given grade plastered on the paper bearing a big red/blue circle centering on the given score. It always make me think:
"Why is it always RED? Why can't I receive a 5 or 6...? At least once I would like to have such numbers..."
Yes. Throughout my entire career as a student pressured in IB (excuse me, during High School), I had never received a number greater than '5'. I would, of course, receive a 6 sometimes when I really-really work myself to the last minute; of course, the number still rarely pops in the paper. All I kept on receiving was the dissatisfaction of my effort; the magic number '4' or '3'. Was I destined to receive marks below five or fours?
I'm cursed--not physically cursed, but I do felt I'm cursed. Despite all the effort I've given, or how much time I've spent on something so meaningful in my academic life I somehow could never achieve the mark I've wished for. Its so close, yet so far away; far beyond my reach. Am I the only one to receive such low marks? Am I the only being around the entire school to have an almost un-changing academic life? Is this the result that I get despite all the effort I've put into. If there really was someone out-there determine to crash my academic life, I would gladly talk to that person and shove a gun on their mouth or knife to their throat; that would shut them up for good!
Comparing my present self with myself from the past, I greatly believe I perform better during my days in junior school--and I mean in grade 1. In my old school, out of 40-50 student, I achieve the '7th hot seat', one of the few 'top-ten' student. Out of forty to fifty! And I still think that's bad! Why? Every test I took in year 1, some of my friends and I had to stay behind and finish the test as we watch the rest of my classmates disassemble from the class and perform all sorts of chaotic actions in the school yard; sometimes running back to class crying due to a scrape in the knee. Moving on to my present school, my achievement slowly degrades from being 'good' to 'bad'. Now I wonder...why? Is it too late improve?
I am dissatisfied with myself. I sometimes hate myself--I really do. Despite how hard I've studied, no matter how many effort I've put into things just won't change! Even if I'm busted down to math studies I doubt I'll receive magic number 'five', 'six'--or even a 'seven'! Probably a 'four' or a 'three'. Call me an idiot for not attaining such high marks as most of my friends do. Call me an idiot for failing all of my math exams I've had for the past middle-high school years I've went through. Call me an idiot for struggling in algebra and quadratic equations...
...But don't call me an idiot for not giving up the things others deemed 'impossible' for me.
I am dissatisfied with myself...
...dissatisfied with my grades...
...
Have I worked hard enough? Have I really given all my effort into it?
...am I really that stupid?
...
...think I'll work harder next year...
"Why is it always RED? Why can't I receive a 5 or 6...? At least once I would like to have such numbers..."
Yes. Throughout my entire career as a student pressured in IB (excuse me, during High School), I had never received a number greater than '5'. I would, of course, receive a 6 sometimes when I really-really work myself to the last minute; of course, the number still rarely pops in the paper. All I kept on receiving was the dissatisfaction of my effort; the magic number '4' or '3'. Was I destined to receive marks below five or fours?
I'm cursed--not physically cursed, but I do felt I'm cursed. Despite all the effort I've given, or how much time I've spent on something so meaningful in my academic life I somehow could never achieve the mark I've wished for. Its so close, yet so far away; far beyond my reach. Am I the only one to receive such low marks? Am I the only being around the entire school to have an almost un-changing academic life? Is this the result that I get despite all the effort I've put into. If there really was someone out-there determine to crash my academic life, I would gladly talk to that person and shove a gun on their mouth or knife to their throat; that would shut them up for good!
Comparing my present self with myself from the past, I greatly believe I perform better during my days in junior school--and I mean in grade 1. In my old school, out of 40-50 student, I achieve the '7th hot seat', one of the few 'top-ten' student. Out of forty to fifty! And I still think that's bad! Why? Every test I took in year 1, some of my friends and I had to stay behind and finish the test as we watch the rest of my classmates disassemble from the class and perform all sorts of chaotic actions in the school yard; sometimes running back to class crying due to a scrape in the knee. Moving on to my present school, my achievement slowly degrades from being 'good' to 'bad'. Now I wonder...why? Is it too late improve?
I am dissatisfied with myself. I sometimes hate myself--I really do. Despite how hard I've studied, no matter how many effort I've put into things just won't change! Even if I'm busted down to math studies I doubt I'll receive magic number 'five', 'six'--or even a 'seven'! Probably a 'four' or a 'three'. Call me an idiot for not attaining such high marks as most of my friends do. Call me an idiot for failing all of my math exams I've had for the past middle-high school years I've went through. Call me an idiot for struggling in algebra and quadratic equations...
...But don't call me an idiot for not giving up the things others deemed 'impossible' for me.
I am dissatisfied with myself...
...dissatisfied with my grades...
...
Have I worked hard enough? Have I really given all my effort into it?
...am I really that stupid?
...
...think I'll work harder next year...
Monday, December 10, 2007
: In the beginning.'
Notice: Look, rather than complaining about how life sucks in an overdone perspective, I really think it's better if I put it in story format.
His lips were parched as he examined that piece of paper that would finally allow him to know whether or not he had recieved the marks he had always wanted.
A four. Somehow, he could still gulp even though his throat was too dry even to let out a gasp.
"So Justin, what did you get?"
He refused to reply rightaway and chose to take his plastic water bottle beside his green school bag. Swallowing huge amounts of water did little help in cooling off the fiery heart that was in him. Putting aside the nearly empty bottle, he replied with hesitation: "Uhh.. I really don't want to tell."
"Oh come on! We all share our grades, why can't you?"
It's true. The marks he had so wished to have had been thrown around the room minutes ago. But none of them were within his reach. He could already sense what was inside his friend's mind.
"Why did Justin not want to share his grades to me? It's not like I had perfect marks. Man, he's such an arrogant jerk. I don't want to be here when he rubs it in me." Justin's face was no longer there; all that's left was the face of a monster - arrogant, selfish, and painfully smart.
Needless to say, Justin did not feel smart at all. As a matter of fact, he felt like the dumbest kid in class. There were a few others who had lower grades than him, but they didn't even study and deserved those grades. Justin worked his butt off until the wee hours of morning. He felt pathetic.
But it's even more pathetic to know that the friend sitting next to him, the very person he had refused to share his grades with just seconds ago, had already came up with a seemingly reasonable conclusion of Justin's arrogant reply. It's ironic at how that conclusion is made to conceal his own faults by spotting the mistakes of another, perhaps more imperfect, human being.
Fearing what may happen if things get out of hand, Justin replied. But he stopped again. He wanted to explain that he does not feel at all obliged to share his grades with his friend and how it is his own grades and not other people's. That he is completely aware of his friend's intentions.
But before he could justify anything, he looked at the frozen look on his friend's face which could only mean one thing: his conclusions are reasonable enough and he will stand strong to it until someone could come up with another reasonable conclusion that could otherwise change his mind, someone that is preferably not Justin.
Justin sighed and excused himself as he left for the restroom. The class is still far from over, and already he could hear the whispered lies over his shoulder.
It has begun.
His lips were parched as he examined that piece of paper that would finally allow him to know whether or not he had recieved the marks he had always wanted.
A four. Somehow, he could still gulp even though his throat was too dry even to let out a gasp.
"So Justin, what did you get?"
He refused to reply rightaway and chose to take his plastic water bottle beside his green school bag. Swallowing huge amounts of water did little help in cooling off the fiery heart that was in him. Putting aside the nearly empty bottle, he replied with hesitation: "Uhh.. I really don't want to tell."
"Oh come on! We all share our grades, why can't you?"
It's true. The marks he had so wished to have had been thrown around the room minutes ago. But none of them were within his reach. He could already sense what was inside his friend's mind.
"Why did Justin not want to share his grades to me? It's not like I had perfect marks. Man, he's such an arrogant jerk. I don't want to be here when he rubs it in me." Justin's face was no longer there; all that's left was the face of a monster - arrogant, selfish, and painfully smart.
Needless to say, Justin did not feel smart at all. As a matter of fact, he felt like the dumbest kid in class. There were a few others who had lower grades than him, but they didn't even study and deserved those grades. Justin worked his butt off until the wee hours of morning. He felt pathetic.
But it's even more pathetic to know that the friend sitting next to him, the very person he had refused to share his grades with just seconds ago, had already came up with a seemingly reasonable conclusion of Justin's arrogant reply. It's ironic at how that conclusion is made to conceal his own faults by spotting the mistakes of another, perhaps more imperfect, human being.
Fearing what may happen if things get out of hand, Justin replied. But he stopped again. He wanted to explain that he does not feel at all obliged to share his grades with his friend and how it is his own grades and not other people's. That he is completely aware of his friend's intentions.
But before he could justify anything, he looked at the frozen look on his friend's face which could only mean one thing: his conclusions are reasonable enough and he will stand strong to it until someone could come up with another reasonable conclusion that could otherwise change his mind, someone that is preferably not Justin.
Justin sighed and excused himself as he left for the restroom. The class is still far from over, and already he could hear the whispered lies over his shoulder.
It has begun.
Friday, December 7, 2007
six years ago..
Note: This blog is based on my perspective. I will also be a bit hypocritical. Don't kill me, just email me if you find stuff that I might have misunderstood for something else.
I was called "The Loner" during the last years of my Junior School life. Frankly, I didn't like it. But it was true that I preferred being alone rather than with being with the friends I had. I thought maintaining friendly relationships back then were just too complicated.
I was wrong.
It has been almost half a decade since I had that particular social mindset, and as the years passed one by one, I get to see firsthand what so-called 'friends to the end' can do to each other. About a year ago, I lost my faith on the existence of 'best friends'. Of course, that term itself is demandingly relative; and people find that it's just my way of saying: "I'm in denial." Who knows?
A friend of mine who jointly maintains Monochromatic Rainbows with her pals once defined 'friends' as "the people you'd spend time with on any given Saturday... and vice versa,". I could have instantly named a few who'd fit that description perfectly.
A long time ago I had thought that, as people grow more mature, the drama surrounding friendships would stop. I remembered having two 'best friends' who each told me not to like the other because they too were bickering with each other. I remembered having to act as if we were fighting everytime I was hanging out with one while the other was looking. Now that I look at it, it's funny how simple a friendship can be made or broken at the same time. What happened to them? They became the best of friends a few years later.
I remembered having this puppy-love crush on a girl about three years ago. Gullibly, I tried listening to the same music as she did, which was - according to her friend's partially true information - 'Hillsongs'. I actually bought CDs and tapes just to listen to the songs over and over again. Her friends told me how she was so active in church that I even signed up for activities in my own church! In the end, I realized how useless it was to have a 'girlfriend' at so young an age; so I told her friends that I wasn't interested in her anymore. What did they did? They told her everything. What did she did? She came up to me and said, "Sorry. I'm still a bit too young." Now, she's one of my closest friends, and the feat that I did to get her attention actually brought me closer to God. Wow.
Two years ago, I had more 'girlfriends' than 'guyfriends' that my parents actually took notice and were quite disturbed by it. During the same year, I also had one of the most wonderful classes in my whole life. We were one, and we had a great time as one. We took part in numerous competitions and whether or not we won or lose, we realized that each of us had fun - and that is probably one of the most important memories one can get during one's school life.
A year later my relationship with friends of the same sex grew tighter and again I was... me. I bonded with people I never thought would have bonded with. It was otherwise a great year. Nevertheless, as time goes by, my emotions and feelings also 'developed'. There was a phase in which I neglected ALL of my friends for a long period of time. I had a reason, but they weren't good enough to justify the actions I did. It went so bad that I actually thought suicide wasn't at all impossible..
My friends were there for me, but I acted as if I didn't need any help from them. I talked in riddles and it troubled them. I gave them clues obvious to me, but oblivious to them. It ended on a Friday, and I had to skip a class just to make things right again... for me at least. One of my friends lost her temper and just left. At once, I woke up.
No, this isn't right. I was completely conscious; I wasn't asleep. No, not hypnotized. I realized what I did. Yes. That's the word: 'realized'.
A few minutes later, I was at an empty counselor's office with another friend of mine - who's probably everybody's best friend. Without tampering anything on the vacant room, I found that the counselor won't be available until after-school. I couldn't wait that long. So there, in front of 'everybody's' best friend, I broke down. After that, it didn't take much time to fix things up with very understanding and forgiving pals. :D Thanks, guys.
This happened a little more than half a year ago. So what now?
Still I find 'BFFs' fighting over trivial matters, but I'm not one to judge, am I? In The Importance of Being Ernest, Algernon said: "Girls call each other other things before calling each other 'sisters'." That particular quote is quite true. People fight all the time, but if friends spend most of their time fighting rather than ..being there for each other, then what sort of structure are they building their friendship in?
I discussed this with x who, like many have numerous friends in school. X sees it as a cycle where one backstabs another for reasons too immature to be seriously talked about.
I once asked a friend of mine: "Hey, do you find me as a good friend?"
With a grin she replied,"I don't know you well enough to judge you, and let's hope I never do."
I was called "The Loner" during the last years of my Junior School life. Frankly, I didn't like it. But it was true that I preferred being alone rather than with being with the friends I had. I thought maintaining friendly relationships back then were just too complicated.
I was wrong.
It has been almost half a decade since I had that particular social mindset, and as the years passed one by one, I get to see firsthand what so-called 'friends to the end' can do to each other. About a year ago, I lost my faith on the existence of 'best friends'. Of course, that term itself is demandingly relative; and people find that it's just my way of saying: "I'm in denial." Who knows?
A friend of mine who jointly maintains Monochromatic Rainbows with her pals once defined 'friends' as "the people you'd spend time with on any given Saturday... and vice versa,". I could have instantly named a few who'd fit that description perfectly.
A long time ago I had thought that, as people grow more mature, the drama surrounding friendships would stop. I remembered having two 'best friends' who each told me not to like the other because they too were bickering with each other. I remembered having to act as if we were fighting everytime I was hanging out with one while the other was looking. Now that I look at it, it's funny how simple a friendship can be made or broken at the same time. What happened to them? They became the best of friends a few years later.
I remembered having this puppy-love crush on a girl about three years ago. Gullibly, I tried listening to the same music as she did, which was - according to her friend's partially true information - 'Hillsongs'. I actually bought CDs and tapes just to listen to the songs over and over again. Her friends told me how she was so active in church that I even signed up for activities in my own church! In the end, I realized how useless it was to have a 'girlfriend' at so young an age; so I told her friends that I wasn't interested in her anymore. What did they did? They told her everything. What did she did? She came up to me and said, "Sorry. I'm still a bit too young." Now, she's one of my closest friends, and the feat that I did to get her attention actually brought me closer to God. Wow.
Two years ago, I had more 'girlfriends' than 'guyfriends' that my parents actually took notice and were quite disturbed by it. During the same year, I also had one of the most wonderful classes in my whole life. We were one, and we had a great time as one. We took part in numerous competitions and whether or not we won or lose, we realized that each of us had fun - and that is probably one of the most important memories one can get during one's school life.
A year later my relationship with friends of the same sex grew tighter and again I was... me. I bonded with people I never thought would have bonded with. It was otherwise a great year. Nevertheless, as time goes by, my emotions and feelings also 'developed'. There was a phase in which I neglected ALL of my friends for a long period of time. I had a reason, but they weren't good enough to justify the actions I did. It went so bad that I actually thought suicide wasn't at all impossible..
My friends were there for me, but I acted as if I didn't need any help from them. I talked in riddles and it troubled them. I gave them clues obvious to me, but oblivious to them. It ended on a Friday, and I had to skip a class just to make things right again... for me at least. One of my friends lost her temper and just left. At once, I woke up.
No, this isn't right. I was completely conscious; I wasn't asleep. No, not hypnotized. I realized what I did. Yes. That's the word: 'realized'.
A few minutes later, I was at an empty counselor's office with another friend of mine - who's probably everybody's best friend. Without tampering anything on the vacant room, I found that the counselor won't be available until after-school. I couldn't wait that long. So there, in front of 'everybody's' best friend, I broke down. After that, it didn't take much time to fix things up with very understanding and forgiving pals. :D Thanks, guys.
This happened a little more than half a year ago. So what now?
Still I find 'BFFs' fighting over trivial matters, but I'm not one to judge, am I? In The Importance of Being Ernest, Algernon said: "Girls call each other other things before calling each other 'sisters'." That particular quote is quite true. People fight all the time, but if friends spend most of their time fighting rather than ..being there for each other, then what sort of structure are they building their friendship in?
I discussed this with x who, like many have numerous friends in school. X sees it as a cycle where one backstabs another for reasons too immature to be seriously talked about.
I once asked a friend of mine: "Hey, do you find me as a good friend?"
With a grin she replied,"I don't know you well enough to judge you, and let's hope I never do."
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Rain, rain...come again?
The constant depression of the skies above Indonesia over the past hour has left turmoil in some of Jakarta's unfortunate shallow areas. Personally, I have been praying for a hard rain since November; despite being Indonesian, I can't stand the heat! No offense to some, but you're right; Indonesia do require a pot-luck of snow!
But God is gracious. To prove his graciousness, He gave us, people living by the equator, a series of monsoon season accompanied by typhoons and hours of massive downpour! I heard from my mother working in SPH Sentul that they're having hails! Unbelievable? Believe it!
Lovely isn't it? Unlike the west, we were given a replacement for the usual December's horrid snowstorms! What could possibly be better than the raging typhoons and rainstorms occurring throughout the entire winter holiday, following up to February! Commonly remembered in my history for flooding my birthday thrice in a row!
Remember last year? Finally after so long, there's a sight I wanted to see--which I deemed impossible--made possible thanks to an overnight rainfall. Oh, such a sweet revenge for us stressed students in IB to see the school transformed into a massive fishpond-minus the fish! The usual clear, sanitary swimming pool turned delightfully...brown. Reminds me about Jakarta's artificial lake Sunter and its all too familiar murky color.
Why would anyone bathe in such waters had me questioning since this day...
December 1-3, 2007. Indonesia had just received a slightly chilly welcome by the festive season with a good whack in the *** by the usual rainstorm, reminding us and the citizens of Jakarta to clean our sewage systems daily, and keep any form of rubbish away from the gutters. Or else we would be experiencing a tour all around Jakarta; don't worry, fairs are paid by Indonesia's top S.A.R team! Better than digging your own residential from 3-8 meters of snow, right?
In the end, major mopping and sweeping would have to follow. For those living in Jakarta's commonly-flooded areas, don't worry! This is a good experience for your future; tells you to build houses up high like those in Padang to avoid further flooding of your room! For those living up high in Jakarta, why not go down to your nearest street and go for a swim--don't forget your rubber ducky!
Rain, rain...
...
...come again?
But God is gracious. To prove his graciousness, He gave us, people living by the equator, a series of monsoon season accompanied by typhoons and hours of massive downpour! I heard from my mother working in SPH Sentul that they're having hails! Unbelievable? Believe it!
Lovely isn't it? Unlike the west, we were given a replacement for the usual December's horrid snowstorms! What could possibly be better than the raging typhoons and rainstorms occurring throughout the entire winter holiday, following up to February! Commonly remembered in my history for flooding my birthday thrice in a row!
Remember last year? Finally after so long, there's a sight I wanted to see--which I deemed impossible--made possible thanks to an overnight rainfall. Oh, such a sweet revenge for us stressed students in IB to see the school transformed into a massive fishpond-minus the fish! The usual clear, sanitary swimming pool turned delightfully...brown. Reminds me about Jakarta's artificial lake Sunter and its all too familiar murky color.
Why would anyone bathe in such waters had me questioning since this day...
December 1-3, 2007. Indonesia had just received a slightly chilly welcome by the festive season with a good whack in the *** by the usual rainstorm, reminding us and the citizens of Jakarta to clean our sewage systems daily, and keep any form of rubbish away from the gutters. Or else we would be experiencing a tour all around Jakarta; don't worry, fairs are paid by Indonesia's top S.A.R team! Better than digging your own residential from 3-8 meters of snow, right?
In the end, major mopping and sweeping would have to follow. For those living in Jakarta's commonly-flooded areas, don't worry! This is a good experience for your future; tells you to build houses up high like those in Padang to avoid further flooding of your room! For those living up high in Jakarta, why not go down to your nearest street and go for a swim--don't forget your rubber ducky!
Rain, rain...
...
...come again?
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Christmas, Oh So Overrated
*NOTE: Ms. Jess, this blog entry is for this week…the previous one was for during exams week…And for the record, Christmas break is just around the corner! Now all we need is just a bit of snow…. Right, like that would happen… in our deepest, darkest dreams :p*
Speeding by past the streets that November afternoon, I couldn’t help but notice the sickening neon colours that seemed to flash on and off, even during the day, declaring of yet another Christmas sale. I recalled often groaning in protest to the constant reminder that, yes, Christmas was coming and that everyone should buy as much as they could to appease anyone whom they have offended over the past year only to ignore them again once the festivities have died down. Over and over, shops and malls, radios and TV shows proclaimed to the world of the ‘Christmas spirit’, of numerous savings and gifts to soften even the hardest of hearts and enhance the holiday atmosphere with laughter and song. Not only so, Christmas has been broadcasted and continually promoted to be a time of generosity and of giving…
Yeah, a time for ‘giving’ away all your money to greedy, subtly-manipulative credit card companies and luring stores that promised an extended payment fee which would increase in interest until next year when families would be scrambling away trying to pay off their debts.
Ha. Ha. What an idealistic view of Christmas. And oh, so overrated.
The fact that Christmas has been degraded into a sole international event in which business may take advantage of to increase their profits is increasingly saddening. All those shows and specials on TV emphasizing the need to look at the real purpose of Christmas couldn’t have been more right…and hypocritical. I mean, back in Canada, by the time Christmas rolled around on the 25th, I was sick and tired of carols and images of Santa Claus blazing on huge billboards and mall posters! Christmas commercials as well as promotions began way back in late October, exhausting the public of any emotional appeal they may have for the celebration and the preparations made for visiting relatives. And all because those dumb holiday advertisements did away with the excitement and immense joy we should have experienced celebrating Christ’s birth!
What’s more, as of recently, every year there would always be some controversial holiday event involving the right to post Christmas decorations on public squares, and the ever so popular debate, “Should we address people with Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas?” Oh brother, must the news always cover live footage along those ‘divisive’ lines when in reality it doesn’t really matter since everyone has been missing the point for the past several decades or so?! Due to mass media as well as modern technological advances in the world, people have been easily brainwashed to miss the actual purpose of why we actually celebrate Christmas, and of why we should feel honoured to remember what had happened thousands of years ago for our sake.
To be honest, Christmas has lost most of its excitement for me years ago, at a time, I suppose, when I began to realize that gifts and distant relatives were not what constitute the reason of why we should celebrate on that day. To be even more honest, it had been years since our entire family has actually gotten together to sit down at a Christmas dinner/reunion; exchanging gifts, sharing stories, and simply enjoying each other’s company. Ha, I’ll be lucky to get a Christmas tree to decorate this year. How pathetic.
Christmas no longer has a meaning, no longer spreads the same tinge of exhilaration I used to feel as the ‘big day’ approached, no longer has the same vital importance as we celebrate it with each passing year. Even worse is the fact that there would be no opportunities to experience winter and the anticipation of whether or not it would snow on that day where it truly mattered. Now, Christmas seemed to be just another day, regardless of the fact that everywhere else we may go, people may hang decorations, sing carols, and have pasted smiles on their faces. Christmas. Once meant something to be truly special have been reduced to just yet another day made a tad more tolerable. It shouldn’t have been like this, and yet it was so. Oh, how so overrated :(
Speeding by past the streets that November afternoon, I couldn’t help but notice the sickening neon colours that seemed to flash on and off, even during the day, declaring of yet another Christmas sale. I recalled often groaning in protest to the constant reminder that, yes, Christmas was coming and that everyone should buy as much as they could to appease anyone whom they have offended over the past year only to ignore them again once the festivities have died down. Over and over, shops and malls, radios and TV shows proclaimed to the world of the ‘Christmas spirit’, of numerous savings and gifts to soften even the hardest of hearts and enhance the holiday atmosphere with laughter and song. Not only so, Christmas has been broadcasted and continually promoted to be a time of generosity and of giving…
Yeah, a time for ‘giving’ away all your money to greedy, subtly-manipulative credit card companies and luring stores that promised an extended payment fee which would increase in interest until next year when families would be scrambling away trying to pay off their debts.
Ha. Ha. What an idealistic view of Christmas. And oh, so overrated.
The fact that Christmas has been degraded into a sole international event in which business may take advantage of to increase their profits is increasingly saddening. All those shows and specials on TV emphasizing the need to look at the real purpose of Christmas couldn’t have been more right…and hypocritical. I mean, back in Canada, by the time Christmas rolled around on the 25th, I was sick and tired of carols and images of Santa Claus blazing on huge billboards and mall posters! Christmas commercials as well as promotions began way back in late October, exhausting the public of any emotional appeal they may have for the celebration and the preparations made for visiting relatives. And all because those dumb holiday advertisements did away with the excitement and immense joy we should have experienced celebrating Christ’s birth!
What’s more, as of recently, every year there would always be some controversial holiday event involving the right to post Christmas decorations on public squares, and the ever so popular debate, “Should we address people with Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas?” Oh brother, must the news always cover live footage along those ‘divisive’ lines when in reality it doesn’t really matter since everyone has been missing the point for the past several decades or so?! Due to mass media as well as modern technological advances in the world, people have been easily brainwashed to miss the actual purpose of why we actually celebrate Christmas, and of why we should feel honoured to remember what had happened thousands of years ago for our sake.
To be honest, Christmas has lost most of its excitement for me years ago, at a time, I suppose, when I began to realize that gifts and distant relatives were not what constitute the reason of why we should celebrate on that day. To be even more honest, it had been years since our entire family has actually gotten together to sit down at a Christmas dinner/reunion; exchanging gifts, sharing stories, and simply enjoying each other’s company. Ha, I’ll be lucky to get a Christmas tree to decorate this year. How pathetic.
Christmas no longer has a meaning, no longer spreads the same tinge of exhilaration I used to feel as the ‘big day’ approached, no longer has the same vital importance as we celebrate it with each passing year. Even worse is the fact that there would be no opportunities to experience winter and the anticipation of whether or not it would snow on that day where it truly mattered. Now, Christmas seemed to be just another day, regardless of the fact that everywhere else we may go, people may hang decorations, sing carols, and have pasted smiles on their faces. Christmas. Once meant something to be truly special have been reduced to just yet another day made a tad more tolerable. It shouldn’t have been like this, and yet it was so. Oh, how so overrated :(
Made of Legends
*AUTHOR’S NOTE: Finally a non-story blog entry! So glad that I could finally think of a new topic! And, don’t worry Ms. Jess, I won’t be posting stories for grading ever again :) *
How strange is it of the modern world to forget about the past as easily as it were to overlook one’s daily chores, about a world gone by thousands of years ago from whence we came from. Numerous times, I would gaze out the window as I type out my ideas, contemplating what it would have been like to travel back into history, receiving first-hand accounts on days gone by, to sift through the available overwhelming witnesses’ records in order to discover the truth, and to understand a bit more of whom we humans truly are.
Hmm, if we only have a time machine.
But we understandably don’t.
How strange is it of the modern world to forget about the past as easily as it were to overlook one’s daily chores, about a world gone by thousands of years ago from whence we came from. Numerous times, I would gaze out the window as I type out my ideas, contemplating what it would have been like to travel back into history, receiving first-hand accounts on days gone by, to sift through the available overwhelming witnesses’ records in order to discover the truth, and to understand a bit more of whom we humans truly are.
Hmm, if we only have a time machine.
But we understandably don’t.
Glastonbury Tor
All we do have are stories, legends, of documents telling the present world of valour and astounding deeds accomplished by those who have found it impossible to do so today. I have always been more increasingly captivated by the truly distant past, of Mayan temples, of rumours describing the wonders of the ancient worlds and of the discoveries concerning notorious artifacts dating back to the medieval times more than the history of the past few centuries or so. Ever since I have read novels concerning King Arthur and the mystical enigma which shrouded his reign, I have been absolutely drawn into that world more so than ours. I smiled thoughtfully whenever I encounter yet another legend regarding Excalibur, Glastonbury Tor, a location where it was rumoured to be King Arthur’s final resting place and the location of the entranceway to Avalon which is surrounded by occasional mists, and of the stories concerning the knights of the round table that we children once knew so well.
True, perhaps these stories weren’t real; perhaps they were simply there to appease the people from having nothing to whisper about by the fireplaces during cold, winter nights. On the other hand, everything has a small hint of truth within them, even though numerous years have passed, distorting many of its accounts and records.
And, nevertheless, a girl could still dream.
The public, as well, have been demanding more of legends and of stories, increasingly more controversial and debatable movie topics which would aid them in, for a brief time, escaping their own restrictive world. Fantasy novels, shows, and movies have been released with great vigour and the audience devoured every single moment in anticipation…for the most part :) I, for one, was one of the many who was engulfed in the wave of new resurgence of the popular genre of fiction concerning of a world other than the one we do know.
It would be strange to believe that these stories were actually true, that these so-called elaborated legends contained more than a hint of reality and into a time where it was once possible. I often still let my imagination loose, and continue to dream of whether or not the stories were simply a figment of the poets’ and bards’ minds, or the telling of an exaggerated truth which we could no longer decipher. Unfortunately, as time grew even more distant into the future, we could often no longer recall where we have derived from, and it would apparently grow worse as technology continues to improve and progress appears inevitable. On the other hand, we too would be become legends, I suppose, if time is prolonged for that long a while into the future, and even then the stories would be remembered by historians.
I assume that the various stories, myths as well as legends would never be lost, however. It would always remain alive, no matter if Time goes on and on, down the worn pathways of life. Ah well, anyhow, these stories and tall tales are what keeps us alive and ignite the inspiration that we once knew but lost. Even then, I often wonder whether or not we were better off now than within the remote past :)
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