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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Resilience

To not give in, to continue despite setbacks. I don't know why I write, or the purpose thereof but I'm going to keep on going if only to hopefully find the goal at the end.

Sometimes I think we do somethings without knowing why we do them. That in each of our minds, there lies a psyche that cannot be untangled except by small steps forward and then backwards, like a dance.

Of course the steps are unordered, and perhaps the steps without rhythm, but the important thing is that there is movement. Where there is movement, there is life. There might not be harmony, but there is life. There is the intention of being better, of hoping that everything will turn out better.

I threw some water onto a pack of beans I kept in my can for a year or so. And the next day, they began sprouting shoots. If a seed has the potential to grow when the conditions are right for it, when will I find the conditions that are right for me? What do I need in order for me to get past the initial beginning phase?

I don't know, and sometimes, I wonder if it all has to do with the right timing and situation? Practice is the key, but there must also be the opportunity to practice. And for this, the price must be right. It doesn't have to be commensurate with the work involved yet, but the key is to gain practice, and indirectly, exposure to the work required.

And to stay the course, I need to be resilient, no matter the situation, no matter how down I might be feeling. There will always be a way, as long as I don't give up.

Restlessness

I've been feeling restless the last 2 days. I need to do something otherwise all this pent-up energy is just going to drive me mad. My teacher said that to learn how to write, one had to just write everyday. It didn't matter what. Just write.

Hopefully in all this writing some sense will come out of my ramblings. If some shred of reason persists at the end of this exercise, then I would consider it a useful one.

I read an article whereby it stated that although all babies are born unequal, with hard work and graft, they can still succeed. Talent only gives you the first step, if you're lucky to possess it. Other people, like myself, have to learn things the hard way.

This means writing. Writing. And yet more writing. Or perhaps working on the camera, or editing. To keep on doing it until it becomes something beautiful, because I've realized talent can only take someone so far before the ethos of work come into the equation.

Perseverance in the face of adversity to build oneself up.

I'm feeling restless tonight, and I don't want to forget it.