Thursday, April 22, 2004
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Damn, I've started smoking again. It's just 3 sticks a day but the point is, I've started smoking again. What's worse is, I've stopped working out. Whatever happened to those 100-pushups-a-day-200-on-weekends routine?
Today, I lit my morning cigarette, stared at it till it burnt through, without taking a single puff. Basically, I don't really need the nicotine, it's just become a habit to light up in the mornings. I must refrain now. Hope this will last through the afternoon. I HAVE to make a conscious effort to give this up. I'll gladly be a quiter here.
Get back to where you once belong.
Today, I lit my morning cigarette, stared at it till it burnt through, without taking a single puff. Basically, I don't really need the nicotine, it's just become a habit to light up in the mornings. I must refrain now. Hope this will last through the afternoon. I HAVE to make a conscious effort to give this up. I'll gladly be a quiter here.
Get back to where you once belong.
Damn, I've started smoking again. It's just 3 sticks a day but the point is, I've started smoking again. What's worse is, I've stopped working out. Whatever happened to those 100-pushups-a-day-200-on-weekends routine?
Today, I lit my morning cigarette, stared at it till it burnt through, without taking a single puff. Basically, I don't really need the nicotine, it's just become a habit to light up in the mornings. I must refrain now. Hope this will last through the afternoon. I HAVE to make a conscious effort to give this up. I'll gladly be a quiter here.
Get back to where you once belong.
Today, I lit my morning cigarette, stared at it till it burnt through, without taking a single puff. Basically, I don't really need the nicotine, it's just become a habit to light up in the mornings. I must refrain now. Hope this will last through the afternoon. I HAVE to make a conscious effort to give this up. I'll gladly be a quiter here.
Get back to where you once belong.
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Jump!
I'm on a ship and I can see something on the horizon, but can't figure out what it is. Suddenly, there's this craving to approach it and I mutter under my breath. I continue to stare and hope lazily that my ship would accelarate and catch up. The fog is building up and the object of desire is fading like a ghost, teasing and challenging me to jump off and try swimming towards it; a task that appears to spell doom, intimidating me with the vicious depths of the ocean.
It feels good to be on board, with all the luxuries my friends might envy me for. I feel lucky to be here, but now, deprived, of not possessing that, what I see glimmering on the horizon. This is the very purpose of the human, to remain unsatisfied with what has been acquired, and go for that ellusive glimmer.
I look back and glance at the crew. They're growing fat and are sprawled out all over the deck, complaining about how blue the sky is or how watery the ocean is. I'm getting sick of it. I look down, ashamed at myself. I take off my jacket. I scramble onto the hull and take one hard look at the glimmer. I lean forward.
It feels good to be on board, with all the luxuries my friends might envy me for. I feel lucky to be here, but now, deprived, of not possessing that, what I see glimmering on the horizon. This is the very purpose of the human, to remain unsatisfied with what has been acquired, and go for that ellusive glimmer.
I look back and glance at the crew. They're growing fat and are sprawled out all over the deck, complaining about how blue the sky is or how watery the ocean is. I'm getting sick of it. I look down, ashamed at myself. I take off my jacket. I scramble onto the hull and take one hard look at the glimmer. I lean forward.
Jump!
I'm on a ship and I can see something on the horizon, but can't figure out what it is. Suddenly, there's this craving to approach it and I mutter under my breath. I continue to stare and hope lazily that my ship would accelarate and catch up. The fog is building up and the object of desire is fading like a ghost, teasing and challenging me to jump off and try swimming towards it; a task that appears to spell doom, intimidating me with the vicious depths of the ocean.
It feels good to be on board, with all the luxuries my friends might envy me for. I feel lucky to be here, but now, deprived, of not possessing that, what I see glimmering on the horizon. This is the very purpose of the human, to remain unsatisfied with what has been acquired, and go for that ellusive glimmer.
I look back and glance at the crew. They're growing fat and are sprawled out all over the deck, complaining about how blue the sky is or how watery the ocean is. I'm getting sick of it. I look down, ashamed at myself. I take off my jacket. I scramble onto the hull and take one hard look at the glimmer. I lean forward.
It feels good to be on board, with all the luxuries my friends might envy me for. I feel lucky to be here, but now, deprived, of not possessing that, what I see glimmering on the horizon. This is the very purpose of the human, to remain unsatisfied with what has been acquired, and go for that ellusive glimmer.
I look back and glance at the crew. They're growing fat and are sprawled out all over the deck, complaining about how blue the sky is or how watery the ocean is. I'm getting sick of it. I look down, ashamed at myself. I take off my jacket. I scramble onto the hull and take one hard look at the glimmer. I lean forward.
Sunday, April 11, 2004
songs in my playlist
Woooah- its a utopian existence of a dream, a passing cloud in which Dave Matthews serenades 'Crash into me' and this dream seeps through me like I'm a permeable entity suddenly solidified when Matchbox 20 howls out '3 a.m.' and 'Long Day'; WHAM! I'm catapulted into a steel wall with my face flattened out against it and the very fading in of Enya (in the same playlist?!) dissintegrates the wall and I float, rising slowly, like I were in the dome of a church a hundred feet high with just one light source above and the crescendo of the chorus pulls me up into an Irish landscape (I've been there, yes, physically) where Sting echoes in 'They Dance Alone', suspending me in limbo, a very peaceful limbo, almost futilitarian.
Snap out of it. Gotto to take mom and the dogs to Palam Vihar. Brother's waiting and it's a long drive.
Snap out of it. Gotto to take mom and the dogs to Palam Vihar. Brother's waiting and it's a long drive.
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