What To Do With Time

February 19th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

Write letters?

I struggle with time, which is only made worse by the unfiltered flood of information. I still have difficulty distinguishing which information is more important. Now that I’ve built a new path for myself, where I am forced to find worthy causes for my time, it has become a heavier thing. I want to spend it as easily, as I breathe, but I become too conscious that there are sixty seconds in a minute, and I then spend it in spurts – as if hyperventilating. I need time, but my body doesn’t quite know what to do with it. Do I pace the room? Do I let my mind wander? Do I sit to read? Do I search for videos of kittens on Youtube? Do I use time to talk to someone (on Facebook, Twitter, Gchat)?

We’d like to think that as long as one’s happy, one’s making good use of time. So if one spends his own happy time, making others happy too, the cycle of happiness then becomes self-perpetuating, expands and extends out to one’s social circles. This is the dream, that my friends and the people I surround myself with, live in a peaceful community untainted by greedy self-interest and modern-day loneliness. You’d like to be less conscious of time because you’re busy and you’re busy with meaningful preoccupations and people.

Ask questions?

But the joke’s on me and the time I have chosen to spend, drawing and mailing postcards to friends, grows heavy with the silence that follows it. I write this with no bitterness or resentment whatsoever. I have been struggling to come to terms with the fact that this is the sign of our times. Social bonds are weak and people come and go in clicks (of mice) and with the push of a power button – we get lost in our own infinities. You don’t just have a group of people coming to terms with an infinite reality, but you have each and every person dealing with infinity in their own way.

That’s a lot of infinities to think about. With the convenience of self-reliance, it’s harder for us to reach out to friends to ask for inclusion. The multiplicity of infinity is excruciatingly isolating. Someone intelligent who I look up to, I can’t remember if it was Ben, described Twitter as a room full of people shouting their thoughts at each other,  fighting to be heard. In a way, this too describes how it feels like to be in a room full of people, anywhere.

Thrust with more time, I am learning again how best to spend it – how I’d like to spend it. I have a new appreciation for the details of daily living, of friendships, of talking to people, so that I can find a way to my dream community, where infinity is dealt with together. It doesn’t matter if opinions differ. In my dreams, we acknowledge that we are in the same pursuit of happiness, contributing to help each other’s confrontation with infinity. We don’t have to be holding hands, just respecting each other and listening. Kind of like how Livejournal is, but more public.

I know that I like spending my time asking hard questions, and being with people who like to help find an answer, so I throw this back at you: Is the whole greater than the sum of its parts?

I’d like to think we can still strive for that.

 

The Lady in Her Own Fur

January 15th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

I don’t usually color the things I draw, but this one’s special. I sent this off to Joe, who lives in Chicago. He is/was my Secret Santa on Redditgifts (Christmas 2011). I like him because he has called me out on my (accidentally) politically incorrect comments.

I encourage you to join Redditgifts too, that is, only if you’re brave enough to be disappointed. I feel lucky that I got Joe and I enjoyed putting together the gifts for my Redditor – but Ib for example gave really cool stuff – and got a jar of sand from his Secret Santa. I still laugh just thinking about it.

Like anything on the Internet, Redditgifts should be used wisely. If you’re in it to give, then it’s a happy thing but if you’re expecting a Kindle or an iPad, I think you should play Secret Santa somewhere else.

 

 

“Learning to be Shady”

January 6th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

This was supposed to be an homage/surprise for my friend and band mate, Ayon, but he hasn’t said a word to me since he got back to Manila. He’s probably going wild, since he was living too anonymously in England. Back-story on the Koala: In order to initiate new members into the band, I’d ask them for their “spirit animal” and Ayon, chose this animal.

I’m not sure if he received this yet. I hope he does eventually. It was my attempt at shading with ink. I obviously have much to learn, but – I’m getting there!

 

 

More Adventurous, Must Helmet

December 16th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

I was trying out our flatmate’s little Penny skateboard, learning how to handle the damn thing, going slowly, not pushing off too hard. Abe taught me how to get on it, but he hasn’t taught me much else. After practicing what I remembered, I gained a bit more confidence and learned how to make some turns on it by putting the right amount of pressure on the tail.

BAMBAMBAM

It’s really when you think you got it, that the world conspires to prove you’re small. I think I was trying to increase momentum for a turn when suddenly, the board flew under me. Next thing I know I’ve hit my face on the concrete floor and my right cheekbone is on fire as if I’d been punched. My brain feels like it has been shaken, my gums and teeth hurt a little and all the while I’m hoping the injuries don’t show. Staggering towards the kitchen, I open the fridge and grab the ice tray and let the whole thing cool the side of my face. But while I’m collapsed on the bed, spitting all kinds of expletives, there’s a huge smile on my face because while it hurts, I think I found a new fun thing to do.

I’m going to buy a helmet.

Now Reading: Moby Dick

December 14th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

Melville's Moby Dick

Melville's Moby Dick

I miss my library. There are still so many books in it that I have not yet read. Call me a hoarder, though I prefer the term bibliophile, because –without sounding too defensive– they are kept for a purpose! Lately, I am reminded how easy it was for me to get lost in a book and forget all else. I’m especially grateful for Singapore’s public library and the access I have to it, because I’ve been borrowing books non-stop. As a result of my weekly visits, I’ve discovered a current favorite publication, The Wilson Quarterly and even subscribed to it.

Dicks are the accidental theme this month. I’m currently reading Moby Dick and will be reading Philip K. Dick next. Moby Dick was never a required reading for me in any of the schools I attended, but I was always drawn to the story. So far, I’m laughing at the chapters with Queequeg. The novel reads like a foreign language, but I’m thoroughly entertained.

In other news: I’m participating in Reddit’s Secret Santa this year and I’m very excited for my Redditor to get his gifts. I’ve requested that he film himself opening the package but he has not yet replied if he’ll do this. I told him I’d understand if he was shy, but I really hope he will! Whether or not he likes the package, I just want to see a human reaction to another human’s efforts to make a person happy.

Last night I baked another batch of my homemade dark chocolate brownies. This time, it was for my dear friend Pepe’s surprise birthday party, which apparently wasn’t much of a surprise because he saw it all coming. Pepe is one of those generous people who is a friend to many. He’s recently found someone to be happy with, so while he is normally jolly, his smiles are even bigger these days. It’s such justice to see good things happening to good people. Happy Happy Birthday to you, Pepe!

Skeletons at the Feast

December 12th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

I had never heard this expression used before and only vaguely understood what it meant. As I read through Chris Bohjalian’s novel, which shares the title of this entry (and is the inspiration for this as well), it became clearer what it could mean.

Idiom:

1. skeleton at the feast, a person or thing that casts gloom over a joyful occasion; a note or reminder of sorrow in the midst of joy.

Everything around us, is a sort of skeleton at the feast. Now that the world is vastly connected. Poverty stricken countries are reminders of the richer ones. The death toll of a calamity reminds us of the survivors.  The crazy chatter of unsubstantial gossip about celebrities from all corners of the world adds to a priceless flood of other, more useful information. We now have access to an ever-replenishing library, that people once, could only imagine. Or perhaps I am alone in seeing the world this way. That despite the happiness (and allowing myself to feel the happiness), there are always little reminders of sorrows.

I finally finished this novel. You can tell by the way the perspectives of the characters were written that it was written carefully and sure enough, when I reached the acknowledgements, I learned that the book had been inspired by a real diary, and guided along by a few other books used as reference. I needed time with this one. Less time than I needed with The Information (which felt like I was swallowing ten courses in one go, without chewing, but it was nonetheless a satisfying meal). But I needed time nonetheless. Whenever I came across a passage or chapter that demonstrated the possible array of human brutality in desperate situations, I am reminded how in my twenty-three years on earth, and on my little island country, I have not yet needed to feel such a thing. I wonder if I ever would but hope that I would never have to.

Illustration by Greg Harlin

Packed with blackened tortoise shells, an ancient shaman's grave may be evidence of early feasting. Illustration by Greg Harlin.

Survival has evolved into such a different word from how it meant during the World Wars. Even back when we were hunting and gathering, Survival had only one definition and that meant to stay alive. Now, it comes in different shapes. Sometimes it’s synonymous to making money, other times it means fitting in. Lately, I notice that it means finding someone who cares enough about you as you would in turn, care about them so that you have someone to survive with. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a romantic partner, but it seems that this is what many have chosen to look for.

The world is getting smaller, but I think as much as possible, we still have to try and survive it as a group or as it was once known, a tribe. The people in my (ideal and selfish) tribe, are my close friends, and they are scattered all over the world. I’ve been trying to reach out to them individually with the intention that they each feel less lonely and disappointed, whenever skeletons appear at their feast.

December Already

December 5th, 2011 § 1 comment § permalink

I’ve been drawing and baking a lot lately – activities I welcome because the latter is something especially new for me.

…And it’s that time of the year again when we collect and remember songs, movies and memories to archive 2011 somewhere safe.

 

[I'll] Reflect What You Are

November 29th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

She hears Nico singing as the rain pours onto the pavement. They’re stuck indoors and they’ve chosen to stay in bed, their limbs knotted.

The moment reminded her of two foxes piled on top of the other, waiting out the bad weather, also wondering whether, they can stay like this for a while.

Sweden Not Norway

November 28th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

I have a friend from Lund, in Sweden whom I recently sent a postcard to. I addressed the postcard to Lund, Norway (for some still quite mysterious reason), but my friend managed to receive the postcard anyway. I’m wondering if all the staff at post offices everywhere know where Lund is or if they Google for answers.

My postcard arrived at my friend's doorstep in this plastic bag, soaking wet and with the stamp washed off.

Prologue

November 24th, 2011 § Comments Off § permalink

Our heroine’s story starts out small,
Not too grand, not too tall.
It is adventurous overall,
With a plot that rises, as it falls.
She wears wolf as she wears sheep,

She might growl or she might weep.
She piles her secrets in a heap,
Of which she’ll choose to share or keep.
Our story’s heroine is not too tall,
Though she has climbed many a wall.
The plot may rise or it may fall,
But she will grin and bear it all.