Child Of 22

GUMPTION

2009 was not that long ago, and it’s already endowed with the soft beauty of reminiscence; a hint of presence filled with probably, many misplaced stain.

But she left nothing for me to disdain, really.

I am a wayward dreamer, at a lot of times. Its how I see beauty most people couldn’t even dreamed of ever seeing; its how I could even persuaded my side of the world for me to pursue this field that fits the accumulation of such small realities; its how I treated life like a piece of apple pie but you as my industry; its how I became an observer mingling through vague impressions; its how abstract I’ve become. I don’t think I could ever change from being such fragments, seeing how I still end up ordering my first choice of dishes after many rounds of hovering during lunch time. Because no matter how our way of looking at things might change, you know that in the end, you’ll always come up with the same answer. Don’t we all?

In the design and fine art field, there are many stories of absolute anguish that are always shed into silence apart from glorious crowning awards. Often time, when observed and listened I tend to think, how can I comfort a person like that? The heightened words so acute are reflected on most expression when used against me, too. No need to deny. We are always in search of definition among right and wrong. We are always disgust by our own past works or after looking at people’s neat version of typography poster, always going through an extensive investigation of details. To many, it is a form of unnecessary to offer to the world when there are more important things to endure such as surviving through the law notes and account trail with a certain heaviness of traffic jam entailed. As if cacophony plays no sagacity in our side of the line.

I am still not aware that the present moment is standing forth already, for I left so much of my thoughts still unanswered back there. Many words of wisdom and unrecorded harsh notes from lecturers I will commit to the memory for a very long time. And as I moved on, I wonder has any of our ideas and perception of beauty and wrong ever align.

I hope for a good madness in 2010.
After all, we are only freshmen of life.

It is already a little abject exciting that Leon’s science theory on art was a shared moment in a quiet Saturday without any falling asleep involved. He pointed out my first mistake of the year by the way.

It will all make sense later.

GRIEF WEIGHT

There are a lot of things I could say right now but I don’t want to say any of them. Nothing lawfully wrong or hurtful, but because of the honesty. Because situations wouldn’t allowed. You never would have accepted because of what you are in. It’s like a compass spinning uncertainly, but the wilderness remain.

And mainly because I am having this sore-throat.

So painfully intense that it made me realize I have reached a point of I don’t ever want to leave an actual current moment and even if I have to, I want to be the one with the luggage.



I felt closer to you than you ever would have known.