Tuesday, October 10, 2006


I was reading the postcard sized messages on PostSecret, and came across this one that speaks of something i would dearly love to experience too. It goes along the lines of "One thing good about getting old is that you no longer care about what others think of you. I am free!"

If i were to compare where i am now on a continuum? I'd say i'm still a teenager in this respect.


13th of September, 2006.

As i'm typing my stuff, i'm aware of the slight lack of feeling in the tip of my left middle finger and often times i would turn up my palm and inspect my fingers. The skin on the tips of my left fingers other than my thumb are kind of chewed up looking, with the skin at different stages of peeling. Every time one layer comes off and new skin is revealed, it wouldn't be long till the new skin turns hard again and begs to be peeled off. My fingers have accustomed themselves to this cycle.

Funny how you need to have little or no feeling or sensation to do something better, to negotiate a job more efficiently. I'm talking about playing the guitar of course.

But as humans, have we consciously or unconsciously practiced a form of emotionlessness like this to view our world, our work, the people around us, our pain, just so that we can remain sane, to function at our optimums to get past as unscathed as possible in our life's journey?

It serves a good survival function but does that make us look ugly and chewed up as well? (i know i said unscathed earlier, but you get what i mean.)

Perhaps at an operational level, most of us can allow ourselves to feel only so much lest we become overly disillusioned. (Another question: Is there anything to be disillusioned about firstly?) So you might say that this's a necessary form of protection. Maybe.

But even if my finger tips are now hardened and immuned to the pain that once made me wince, my soul tingles with pleasure as i strum and savour the rich notes that rise from the resonance of string and guitar.

I suppose we'll still go about the hum drum of this life because we cannot control everything there is. But maybe, just maybe, when the time and season is ripe, we can choose to put down our reasons and rationalizations, our fears and pain, our insecurities and vulnerability, to let a side of us open up to breathe, to soften, to appreciate, to think, to do.

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