Friday, March 05, 2010

If I could write a letter to God

If I could write a letter to God, what would I say. I'm no great human being, that's for sure. But then again, if I was, I wouldn't need God.

But what to write. The articulation of a myriad thoughts, put into words. Given form and hope that they breathe. I'm worried, I'm confused. I don't know where to go, what to do, how to turn, how to proceed. My paths are blackened before me, my eyes see nothing more than the next step, and not the end. I don't know where the next step leads, whether to salvation or another endless circle.

People chronicle many things in blogs. Sex lives, real lives, made believe lives, and everything else in between. Prayer is articulating everything vocally. Perhaps inwardly. So let me articulate myself in words. Words I can turn back to and serve as a record and progress meter of my life.

I'm scared. I take too long to start and don't know how to start up a story. Yet I need a story to write, in order that the script is started. I'm scared. I need more work, more paid work, so I can pay off my bills and earn money rather than just depending on others. I'm not in debt but I need a steady flow of work, of income. How much more must I go before I hit rock bottom? I am in a land where I do not understand the way it works. I'm walking into doors which are shut and I have no way of opening them. I'm in an industry where people are prejudiced against me from the beginning whenever I try to apply for something. So what can I do?

How can I improve myself and get that chance that's been eluding me? How can I be at the right place at the right time unless God sets it up for me? Will I even be able to see it and know it?

So God, what should I do? How can prayer help me if I do not take the step of faith and ask for a job. A proper job, or work to come in so the bills can be paid? So I'm asking for a job in the industry. Barring that, a place in the school I applied to where I can learn more and continue to improve myself. Event films are not my thing and people don't even want to pay the money anyhow, despite the amount of work put in.

A lot of it sounds like whining. Probably it might be. But at this stage of life, if the door doesn't open by a miracle. It probably never will. Alien in a foreign land.

And yet, maybe that's why people cling onto God, because of the hope, real or perceived, that is given. Read a verse in the bible and the truth hits you back in the chest, daring you to dispute it. Because it's truth, not fiction. Maybe because that's all people have to cling to, for hope and for a better tomorrow.

Joshua 1:9 “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Identity

I liked the film "Identity" starring John Cusack. It's interesting in its plot and execution. The latter word holding quite a particularly grim meaning for many of the show's characters. In a sense, I'm trying to find my own identity.

It's easy to say, I'm this, or I'm that, when you have a clear picture of who you are. But when all you've got are other people's perceptions of how you should be, according to their value system, then it isn't as easy as it is once you decide to find out for yourself.

Probably that's why teenagers are so hard to cope with, as they seek out and try and "discover" themselves. Deprived of this chance, it might set them back years in terms of human development. While I'd love to join the "pity me" group, I'd rather move on and get ahead with my life - once I've charted out a course and direction.

Without the right bearings, it's probably a worse minefield I'm getting myself into.

And I guess talking about myself in the 3rd person isn't going to help either. To face the problem, it's got to be head on, cold turkey. I can't just skirt around the issue with niceties and diplomacy. Especially not when it's myself I'm dealing with.

Who am I?

Monday, August 17, 2009

Heart

Every heart sings a song or tells a story, or both. Whether it be sorrow or laughter, tears or joy, every heart is created with a song to sing and a story to tell. Stories, lore and even urban legends are carried over throughout generations by word of mouth. And even though today we live in a world proliferated with mass media, nothing is more precious than the news brought via word of mouth, especially when the bearer of the news is sincere.

As tales get passed on, extra details are added, little embellishments, perhaps the evil monster / villain gets more evil in every passing telling. Maybe the big bad wolf was actually just a puppy dog. Or the seven dwarves, seven dudes with rickets and deformed legs. Who really knows? Or someone who charged through the hordes of the enemy to look for a fallen comrade. Mayhaps the missing detail was that the so-called hordes were actually in retreat.

I believe that everyone has something to say - but as time passes and we age - that urge or longing gets fainter and fainter the longer we ignore it. I guess it comes down to the test of - would I regret it later on if I look back and wished I did something?

The funny thing about a heart is that it's amazing. I don't profess to say God is non existent because creation itself says he is. As much as I have struggles with my own faith, or lack of, I cannot doubt that God exists and is real. Yet many things which I've been taught when I was younger, just makes me wonder how people can easily turn young willing minds to their own ends. The intention was good, yes, but the method, definitely no. It is amazing what somethings can do to a child in childhood if their parents do not teach them correctly.

I guess to solve some of my problems, I need to travel back into my memories and try to piece together the fragments. Every heart has its own story to tell, and this is mine.

Labels: , , , ,

Friday, August 14, 2009

Truth

Truth is a strange word. It's an absolute. It's not a maybe, perhaps, or will it, will it not. It just is. Truth that is bent is no longer truth. Sometimes, I let the problem cloud my mind more than it should. The truth is that I should proceed with my work, despite any fears I have of it.

The fear speaks, and says, maybe you can't do it. Maybe you should think about it some more. Perhaps a little more consideration time. But will all this thinking, I lack the important element, which is movement and action. Thus inaction is borne out of fear. I guess that's a new meaning to the term "paralyzed by fear". I'm afraid to move for making a mistake.

But in the end, when I look at the situation, I have to do something. Because doing nothing is akin to dying. Only dead people don't move. Sleeping people still dream, and engage in REM, and when they wake up, they move. Maybe I'm in a dream right now, where everything should be moving, but is only going in persistent slow-motion.

Movement without thought is hasty and often leads to more problems. However, I tend to think too much. To double think, triple think even. And that's where the problem is. I know I think too much, and hate that part of myself. I need to learn that once I've thought about the situation, I have to act. After all, if I do nothing, nothing happens. If I do something, according to Newton's law, there has to be some reaction. If I eat, I'm no longer hungry. I need to take thinking and then acting as a base instinct, and not something that's more metaphysical or "higher" than just what needs to be done.

And I've just done this post instead of just thinking of doing a post and wondering what to write, I've actually gone ahead and written something.

Labels: , , ,

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Delirium

I'm delirious. Not in a good kind of way but in the I'm so tired but I've still got these things to do" sort of delirious. I should really get my body clock sorted. I read this in a magazine about Landscape photography that it's not to get the right moment by fortuitous luck in most occasions and then rush to prepare everything, but to plan and wait for it, so when it comes, I'll be ready to take that perfect picture.

I guess this could apply to everything in life. Sure, luck plays a part in everything, but I guess good old-fashioned planning, practice and grinding works too. If I was perpetually lucky, I'd never need to do anything and it would be there for me.

So I guess this means I have to keep doing the jobs I do, slowly preparing myself and working until that big break comes. Preparation is key. If I'm not even properly prepared, there's no way I'm going to be working at peak performance. So I'll have to write even if I don't feel like writing. Edit when I don't feel like editing.

Sure, art is about creativity and feeling and freedom, but I have to nail it in my head that art is also about discipline. Perhaps it's the hardest form of discipline that there is, because you don't get to see the rewards for a substantial time. Perhaps not even in your lifetime at all. But yet we persist, we keep at it, because deep down, we choose to believe that if we keep trying, surely one day, surely that door will open, that opportunity will come. But if we aren't prepared, then we'll surely implode as many others have done so.

No, even though I'm not anywhere I want to be yet, I'm not giving up, because this is preparation. My work might not be the best, but it's slowly and steadily improving. And that, in itself, is encouragement to me, that the road and dream hasn't exactly ended yet.

So I may be delirious, but let it be a good delirium.

Labels: , , ,

Monday, August 10, 2009

Conflict

Humanity has been perpetually beset by conflict. Peace is a rarity, and should be appreciated. However, it is also conflict that is intereting, at least in the arenas of film, drama, and the arts. Passivity and placidness often leads to boredom. Think of plain white colours. Boring.

I'm normally a peace loving person, and abhor conflict, but sometimes, there is no choice but to engage in it, if it is for the good of my soul. If someone slanders me, I have to fight the lies. To simply lie down and accept it would be construed as saying the lies about me are true. Not everyone loves conflict, and some even choose to turtle up and avoid it altogether.

In the process of growing up, there is already the conflict of identity, of discovery, of self. To suppress this desire and live a life for someone else, would only serve to deman and hunder yourself, and your own aspirations. I do not see it as selfish to push for what I desire to do, and to improve myself in that area, so long as it benefits my fellow man.

My parents would often try their best to shelter me, and not allow me to fight my own fights. I fully understand that not every fight will be a victory, but in defeat, one can learn. Sometimes, one fights purely for moral grounds, for the right, not for the sake of fighting. One has to know what one is fighting for.

I believe that conflict is healthy in the development of each person. It could be an internal conflict, or an external one. But sometimes, we have to face our own fears and demons. Confrontation is often more scary than it really is. Face your giants and don't let them rule over you.

It is in the furnace of conflict that we are shaped and moulded, to better face the world. If I were only in a sheltered situation, I would be pitiful of myself, to never experience some measure of conflict, in which I can further develop myself. Perhaps, in a small measure, conflict teaches one about courage. Standing up for what I believe in, and not giving in.

Labels: , ,

Sunday, August 09, 2009

Emotion

I feel. I see. I experience. Emotion is a part of being human, akin to humanity. To be without emotion, is to be without life. A machine does not feel, does not respond to feelings, does not make decisions based on gut instinct. It follows a preprogrammed code. Cause and effect, perhaps, in its rawest form.

But to feel, is a gift we've been given. How would I use it? I don't know. Sometimes, I want to laugh, but I suppress the urge. After all, why would I want people looking at me and judging me for laughing at what I perceive as a funny joke? Yet in the controlled childhood that I had, laughter, or anything out of the norm, wasn't much accepted.

To ask questions about what one did not understand, only served to reinforce the belief (erroneously) that one was stupid. Of course that's why we ask questions - so we might further our understanding of the subject matter. If we didn't have to ask any question, then we'd all be God.

But sometimes, I feel a dearth of emotion. When I should cry, or weep, I can't. It's like something is missing within me. A black hole of unfeeling coldness. Too often there's no despair, just depression and resignation. Why do I not feel frustrated? Is it worth being frustrated? Who knows how everything will turn out? Certainly not me, that much I'm sure of.

Some people speak of divinity being a guiding light. Others speak of self. I just know that sometimes I wish I had a direction to follow, a path to walk. Aimlessness is not a beautiful experience. Too many times, I guess and believe that I've tried to be someone's idea of perfect and failed at it. I can only be me, not what you want me to be.

A child's laughter is what I'd try to recapture. My childhood, if I could relive it. Certain decisions, if I could reverse them, and words, if I could take them back. The clock doesn't stop for me, but in each of us, there lies a seed, a desire to do something good. To create, to invent, to make, for the benefit of others out there in the world. I seek to find my place in the midst of the storm outside. And as time passes, hope fades inside me that I'll ever find that promised land.

One can only do one's best. More than that I cannot do.

Writing is therapeutic, and releases pent-up frustration for me. Though it needs a certain amount of discipline to even click the webpage and enter my posts, this I must do. Discipline is important in life, as boring as it may be. Perhaps this is how I can slowly gain it back. To write, to chronicle some parts of me. To collate and then focus it into a passage.

The subject matter does not matter, just the process of writing. And perhaps one day, I'll uncover the puzzle of who I am and why I'm here and what I should be doing.

Labels: ,