Moonlight Shadow :: Updated 22 Aug 2003 : All Rights Reserved : The Journeyman ::
:: My Musings::
:: My Poetry : My Musings : My Favourites : My Journal ::
2003 | 2002 | 2001
[23rd july 2003|10:47pm]
It's scary how history can shape the future in ways that we never knew.
It's scary how we tend to overcompensate.
But it's a marvel how evolution works: those the survives the toughest conditions never die, and appreciate the simpler things of life, while the pampered and sheltered, if left unawakened, festers and expires.
[17th july 2003|01:11am]
In the relentless cycle of time, everything seconds count.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.
The next thing you know
you're wondering (and hopefully not regretting) how you did what you did.
That you might not know that you did.
[23rd july 2003|10:47pm]
It's scary how history can shape the future in ways that we never knew.
It's scary how we tend to overcompensate.
But it's a marvel how evolution works: those the survives the toughest conditions never die, and appreciate the simpler things of life, while the pampered and sheltered, if left unawakened, festers and expires.
[15th july 2003|11:03pm]
awashed with dreams of yesterday
debris of hope littered the bay
where life,
deprived,
cycles forth the eternal
delay.
[7th july 2003|12:39am]
Brenden didn't do too well for his mid-year and actually flunked a couple of subjects. Was angry and disappointed, but yet reflected on my role as a father-brother to him; there's surely more that I could do. Resisting the temptation of the conventional parent: to scold and go towards the negative, I tried my best to get to the root of the problem. No more TV for weekdays and a proper study plan was established. And of course. Lots of love, lots of love from me.

Which reminds me of the lyrics from Chicago...
[ROXIE (spoken)]
And I love the audience. And the audience loves me
for loving them. And I love them for lving me. And
we jus tlove each other. That's because none of us
got any love in our childhood.

Scary what imprints our childhood could have left on us.
Eek.
[15th july 2003|11:03pm]
I feel weak. Inept.
There's always this sense of failure that looms.
It's the same problem of "I'm not good enough", "Why can't I be better", so on and so forth.
It's an self-imposed punishment. Yet I don't think it's a mental condition. My parents have never asked more than what I could give.
Maybe it's the inner self, that pushes me and urges me on.
Then again, maybe I've never accepted myself for what I really am.
It's the DISCIPLINE word. I feel a need to push myself further, to work harder, train to be fitter, to reach that illusionary epitome that never exists. In introspection, it can be scary. Very scary. It works like a drug. It gets harder and harder to reach a higher level. And perhaps one day I will fall.

And then again, it's all in the matter of the mind.
Life goes on. A minute later and all would be forgotten, on the conscious level anyway.
But I'm perturbed by the fact that I could think that I have never accepted myself.

Must be the champagne.

Heh.
[5th july 2003|11:13pm]
There are so many occasions that I get entirely absorbed in a feeling, usually euphoric, that I believe it can last forever. But that is an illusion and nothing stays the same. And if it did stay the same, it wouldn't be euphoria in the first place. It would be the norm, the default, and then I wouldn't be happy in the first place.

It's the relentless cycle of happiness and sorrow. One's nothing without the other.
Hence, let's rejoice in sorrow.

Notwithstanding, some choose the fence and practise the art of detachment.

Show me a sign.
[14th june 2003|12:44am]
Was the most intense feeling. Ever.
The rest was a blur. A whirl. Whatever. Doesn't matter.
"I love you very much," she confessed.
"I love you too."
Our foreheads touched; our eyes met.
My arms on her shoulders, I brought her head closer even as our foreheads were connected.
And we kissed, we kissed, we kissed for eternity in a minute.
She was in my arms, forever.
And when the lips parted,
The love becomes a treasured part of history locked
safely away in the
passage of
time.
[20th May 2003|5:40pm]
That's perhaps the contradiction of life. We all know that life can be beautiful when things remain in situ, but we choose to lament and grumble. Perhaps that's also why everyone's drawn to Sex and the City; we're all longing to hear about what we've always known. It's just that we need someone to tell us what is wrong with ourselves so that we can move on.