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Sunday, September 25, 2011
Was bored yesterday and without inspiration so I decided to jump on the bandwagon and do this meme as well. I guess I'm pretty satisfied with my improvement over the past 2 years. If I didn't put these two side by side, I wouldn't have been able to feel at least somewhat confident about the pace of my progress. All I felt for the past few months was that I didn't entirely improve much from the immediate past...but I guess the big picture really shows things differently and more comprehensively.
I think I've managed to come to terms with the fact that not being selected for TAP isn't the end of my artistic journey. After all, different mentors suit different apprentices, and maybe my time just hasn't come yet. I don't think I'm too bad. Many people say I downplay myself too much, and yet to me it just felt like the right thing to do because, perhaps due to the manner of upbringing, being proud feels like a sin. I have no idea what to say about myself sometimes. I know I'm probably good in some things, and I know how far my passion can take me, but sometimes...sometimes I just can't see those things and the darker side overshadows everything.
Like what Awa told me, if they don't want me, well, I shall just self-study and get tips from people who're willing to give them. There's no restriction to who and where I can get knowledge from, as well as how I get it. As long as I don't stop believing in myself, I can and will try to amount to something in future.
While I have passion, I must have the confidence to pursue my passion as well. Maybe this is what this entire TAP mentorship failure is meant to teach me. :)
***~~~*Waited for the Winds at 11.43am*~~~
Saturday, September 24, 2011
So I gave myself a good night's sleep and dreamt an extremely long and vivid dream as well. There were many scenes and all of them were random, but there was also a strange bittersweet twinge to all those events that occurred. There was an afro-american boy who was comforting me as I waited in vain for someone at a deserted airport, friends who looked anxiously upon me from above as i fell flat on my back while trying to climb the stairs, and someone sent huge bags of sweets and chocolates to my house and dumped them on the top bunk of my bed, despite it being strange because I don't actually have a double-bunker in real life. These friends...these strange people I met yesterday, they weren't any of my dream companions. I could tell from their energy that they weren't the same as my previous kin. However, wherever they came from was probably similar if not the same, because they had the same kind of energy...not entirely identical, but similar to large extents, and it was heartening to feel their love and protection once again after being deserted for so long alone in the cool air of a vast dreamscape.
Sometimes I wonder if Em and my other pals are still watching me somewhere as I journey through my dreamscape night and day. At times when I feel sad, I feel their presence, just a mild feeling, around in the room as if wondering if they should step up and communicate with me whichever way they can. And all those 11:11 escapades or sightings of repeated numbers...they do communicate with me through numbers, a lot more lately, and sometimes whenever I think of things I would unconsciously glance at the clock and find numbers which would give me simple indications of whether I'm on the right track, or I need to turn back and take another route altogether. Maybe they're still around, I just can't see them as much as I do last time, that's all. They're still here and that's all that matters.
After all these years, I've learnt to see that everything in my life at least happens for a reason. Whether good or bad, they all seem to fit into the bigger picture like puzzle pieces and seem to be facets of a gigantic system. Sometimes when I don't manage to get what I want, such as this mentorship programme, I'd realise later on, with great relief, that if I had managed to get that particular thing at that time I wouldn't have been able to fulfill another much greater desire or received much more helpful benefits. Some things are meant to be gotten, and some things are not. These happen of their own accord either to let me learn important lessons, or to clear the way for better things in future...and for all the past 15 years of my life, I've begun to see this trend which almost never falters.
Everything happens for a reason. That's what gives me comfort and confidence to continue even if the times are dark and unpromising.
You know, I was wondering lately if I should ever mother a child when I grow up. I find myself thinking a lot like Hedda Gabler at times. Not that cold, of course, but the line of thought is approximately the same and we both have the same concerns. If I mother a child, my freedom will be gone. I will not be able to retain the freedom to die whenever I wish, nor can I pursue whatever I desire, because I'll have another life to take care of and which depends upon me to survive. By then, I will be a slave to both the child's life as well as my own conscience and societal obligations. I do not want that. I want to live free and die free. If I die and the child's alive, I'm not free either, because I'll be taking another life with me whether at present or in future when he dies without my help. Neither do I want him to waste his life because of my absence. Things like that are bound to happen.
I do not want to die killing someone, because that will be gaining freedom by taking another's, and I do not want that. That is not considered being truly free.
I will see how my life turns out. If by age 30 everything sucks worse than now, I will probably decide not to marry and take my own life before I destroy another's. I do not want to wait until I'm old and sick of life and yet unable to kill myself because by then I'd have already been bound to new obligations and new people depending on me. Everything will be worse when I, perhaps due to sickness or old age, have no choice but to depend on others.
One of the greatest wishes of my life...is perhaps to die freely while I can.
***~~~*Waited for the Winds at 12.09pm*~~~
Yeah, I didn't manage to get in to the mentorship programme after all. I must really...really suck. Something nags at the back of my head that I should not be so depressed over a small setback (which isn't exactly a setback to begin with), but strange enough, I've suddenly lost whatever confidence I used to retain in my artistic pursuits as well as progress over the past few years. Was I too arrogant? Was I feeling too certain of my skill that I believed I would definitely be able to at least enter the artistic industry when I grow up?
Or was I just too insecure, and locked my eyes on whatever achievement I had up my sleeve so far just so I could grasp unto some form of reassurance? I'd never know which it is, and I'm too tired now to think as well. But it's an important question. After all, Art is a juncture with branch roads in many different directions and my purpose of pursuit will affect the path I choose eventually. I cannot afford to make wrong choices. I cannot afford to lose my chances. If I lose my footing for just one second, I may very well find myself losing everything I owned in the next. The world is that dangerous...and I've grown to accept that fact.
This is giving me some serious qualms about my perception of my own artistic pursuits all the way up till now. I'm still feeling harrowed by the fact that I, a noob whom mentors could not bring themselves to bother mentoring, actually blindly thought I had the power to carry my Art to the next level with sheer passion and courage.
Passion and courage, so to speak, are probably the only two things I have with me on this journey. I walk upon the very watershed of reality and the idealistic world every single second of my life. When I endeavour, I believe that the spiritual will spill over easily like a wave ashore and push me forward just as well...and sometimes it has worked, sometimes it hasn't, but I was always well enough to continue trying in a few days or weeks. Yet for some reason, not being short-listed as a mentee this time round really struck a chord somewhere. Somehow I think I had some kind of preconceived notion that teachers would not be too hard to find. After all, everyone is a teacher in a way, and it only seems right that seniors should be at least willing to disclose some experiential information to eager yet clueless juniors. Being rejected an apprenticeship...really made me feel rotten to the core. It brought up a lot of confidence issues and doubts I had about Art all this while but which I suppressed in my enthusiasm to keep pursuing what I feel passionate towards, and having them all resurfacing at once, and in such a nasty manner too, was rather unsettling.
I've tried to calm myself down and make myself think it's not a big deal, that teachers can make their choices and these aren't the only (and also probably not the best) teachers I will be meeting. But I failed. I really tried hard but I failed. Whenever I think about this mentorship programme...I feel hurt, I feel jealous, I feel painful, insecure, frustrated, worried, anguished, doubtful and depressed all at the same time. It's like a dark mass of negativity I haven't encountered in a while. And here I thought that post-EYAs would be cheerful, though it turns out that things will just keep happening and the bad replaces the good whenever possible.
For now, since I can't give myself answers, and neither can I reassure myself in any way, I shall log off and go to sleep. I hope that after a good night's rest as well as emotional release, I can get back on track and think clearer and more logically tomorrow.
***~~~*Waited for the Winds at 12.23am*~~~
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
I'm slipping back into depression so fast I can't believe myself. I probably have an affinity for sadness and negative emotions or something, because I can't hold myself upright for more than a month, and the weight of life just comes crashing down before I know it. In those two months where I've been able to remain healthily positive, I was aware of the brighter sides of things and berated my old self for being such a dick and not being able to peer past the corner and see what splendour awaits. And yet, now I can't see that splendour anymore. Not a glance, not a peek...just pure blackness, deep, dark, unrelenting blackness. It's gone.
...or maybe I've just closed my eyes again.
Az and Stef both got short-listed for the TAP interview. I shall be downright honest and I won't say I'm happy, not at all. It's not jealousy though, just a dark hatred towards myself again for not being good enough and not being the ideal I try so hard to reach. I'm not angry with them nor am I jealous of their achievement. But I can't bring myself to feel happy. Obligation or not, whether or not I am their friend, I can't feel happy...not now.
I don't really know what to say. I've still got a chance, probably, but it's so slim that I probably can't make it at all anyway. I need to pull myself up but I can't. Every time I fail, there's just this constriction of the lungs that makes it had to breathe for a long while, and I can't walk away, neither can I think properly. It's not sadness, and it's not anger either. I just don't know what to feel. Perhaps it's just the calm before the storm, where the timeless moment encases me and I let myself come to terms with what has really happened before the gravity of the situation crashes down.
The half-finished Naruto Copic piece is still on my tabletop. I'm not going to finish it today anymore. Any thought of art now makes me feel sick somehow...because if I'm not good enough, what am I thinking, happily drawing away and believing that I can really amount to anything? If I can't even be short-listed for a mentorship programme, if no mentors even deem me fit to mentor, what am I basing my hopes on? These dreams, these childish aspirations...aren't they just gonna die off? Aren't they just gonna leave me, just like so many others did?
I've lost my first dream at age 15. I haven't lost my second dream, but my ability to dream is starting to slip through my fingers like sand. What's everything gonna be like in the end?
Who am I gonna be?
What am I gonna do?
***~~~*Waited for the Winds at 9.13pm*~~~
Monday, September 19, 2011
It's the first week of options and I'm already finding myself looking forward to the ''end'' which is a good seven weeks away. I can't believe just how boring these options are! Not to mention I've lost two of my options, so now I'm stuck with three options which had never really been my "choice" to start with, and the first two are already starting to make me feel really, really horrible.
This doesn't mean I don't like Art & Philo, of course...I think it's just the way the whole thing is taught. I hate COI sessions because I hate speaking up and with three teachers in the room to top it off. Yet this whole thing is just like COI, and the only mild deviation from a normal tiresome Philosophy lesson is that the topic is Art, which is supposed to be something which keeps my interest, but sadly failed to do so. To me, this whole options hoolabaloo is some pathetic shit pulled off by the school in a desperate attempt to keep us occupied. Now we're dismissed even later than usual everyday and that means sardine-packing during peak hours on buses with drivers who just choose to ignore you. Great, isn't it? What a drag.
So that aside today was extremely hectic as my whole morning was spent running about for the Jap Immersion programme healthcheck.The most outrageous thing was that after having queued for 1.5 hours until they lazily opened those dainty glass doors, I was sent back home to retrieve my passport and travel document. Why does a health-check need my passport?! I've already given them my BC number, my IC as well as my Student Card, can't they at least take the time and effort to, you know, check it out? If their systems aren't able to turn up the background information of specific persons, then their technology just sucks real bad. Oh well. At least the nurses were relatively nice and I got through the stages rather quickly after I returned with my documents. That leaves me with ample time to go to school, though not enough time to have lunch, so I just gobbled a cheese sausage and a cup of Pink Guava Juice and slept my way on the MRT to Orchard.
What a tiring day, I feel like I could slump on my bed and fall right asleep. Maybe I should. I don't think I can keep my eyes open anymore...yeah, these few days it's always been difficult to keep my eyes open somehow. As if energy is draining out of me slowly but surely. I don't seem to be able to get up and about like I used to, I just don't have the energy anymore. I'm not worried, though. If I die, well, that's alright, it's gonna do some people a favour and that "some people" includes me of course.
Speaking of which, my parents have finally decided not to buy the Condo flat after all. In some way it was a great relief for me, because if they did purchase it, I'd have to pay for them when I grow up. I don't mind paying for them of course. What bothers me is the fact that such responsibilities will end the freedom I have now...the freedom to die, the freedom to choose when to die. Such responsibilities will prevent me from leaving the world whenever I wish or need to. You see, for a sensitive idealist like me, sentiments are a tricky thing, and I'm persuaded to do things more often than being coerced into doing them simply because I have no other choice. If such monetary binds were to accompany me into my post-graduation work-life, I'll be obliged to keep living, to keep surviving because I feel bad if my old parents were to be left with the daunting burden of paying everything by themselves. This is not what I want. I want freedom.
And the freedom I want can only be achieved if I do not hold myself liable over anyone else's life. In other words, I cannot rely on people, neither can I allow people to rely on me. It's for their own good as well. If I were to vanish from the world suddenly one day, those who rely on me will have nothing to depend on. I do not want that to happen. I want to die without obligations, to die without attachments. I want to come and go as I please; no mess, no ruckus, no noise and attention, just pure peace and oblivion in a timeless state where the unseeing world just leaves me be. That is the way I want to die. A free death.
Alright, that's all for tonight. I'm dead tired and should really be getting to bed no matter how early it is.
***~~~*Waited for the Winds at 8.48pm*~~~
Friday, September 16, 2011
Today the EYAs officially ended, the main bulk that is, we're still left with Math about 2 weeks later. I went home and sat inspiration-less, and decided to practise semi-realistic portraiture. I drew Naruto or at least a semblance of him. I'm still failing really badly. I know I probably shouldn't expect too much of myself but really, somehow it's as if I'm a failure if I can't be exceptional in art. I want to be good in something. If I'm not good in everything, at least be good in something, that's the least I can do.
Naruto turned out so screwed. I put in so much effort into this piece...I referred to artists' works, flipped the canvas from left-to-right for proportion checks over and over and over, and I skipped dinner for it as well. Now I'm dead tired. And then someone suddenly pointed out to me that the eyes were positioned too far apart and as grateful as I am to him for his constructive criticism, I was so irked by the anatomical issue that I went back to edit it more than 3 times. The first was to pull the eyes closer together and blend everything out. The second was to Change the jawline a little because it looked too effeminate. The third was to edit the chin as well as a last-ditch attempt to not make him look too girly. I think it still failed in the end. I can't seem to do anything right, can I?
I know it's the end of the EYAs and I should be enjoying, not pressurizing myself more. But I've already lost so much this year because I didn't practise art as much as I did for the last few years. I can't let myself slack now. I do love art anyway, it won't be too much of a pain as long as I can take it. I can't lag behind, not now.
And yet sometimes I wonder, just who do I think I'm lagging behind? A lot of people out there, of course, but why must I bother about them? Why can't I go at my own pace?
I have no idea myself. I try to persuade myself, but at the end of the day I just get depressed and wonder just who is trying to persuade who, for both parts are me and both talk to the other as defiantly as possible to get their points across. I'm confused. I want to take a break, but I won't allow myself to...?
By the way, I'm addicted to "Shattered" by Trading Yesterday. It's such a sad song. It fits my mood nowadays.
I'm tired. So tired. I'm going to log off now, hopefully this depression over my art can go away soon so I can do something constructive about it.
***~~~*Waited for the Winds at 12.59am*~~~
Friday, September 9, 2011
What does one do when the person she used to love is now in love? And with an unknown person, a strange, mysterious figure who now stands like a shadow between the two of them, and all he sees is her, not the other girl behind her who has turned transparent and melded into the obscure backdrop. What is one to do at times like this?
I'm not lovesick, no, just a little confused with my emotions. I didn't quite know what to feel when I first knew all of this. I guess it's what you call "Bittersweet", because four years has done enough to fade my memories along with emotions I used to carry for him, and while I am honestly glad that he is getting on with life, that he has found new purposes and new things to cherish...there is this small, inexplicable ache somewhere inside. A kind of yearning. A kind of dull throb which isn't painful but reminds you of pain as if hearing the sound of a baby crying through a translucent film. I know - I've known all along - that I'm unable to get what he is able to give, but that's okay. I won't hesitate to say that I did feel happy for him. I really did, in all honesty, just like anyone would be pleasantly surprised to find that a friend has discovered something as beautiful as romance.
I'm glad he's discovered that he's now able to give something entirely new, and to an entirely new person. I've got no problem with that. I'm not sad, not in that way.
Haha well, I think what they say about First Love and stuff like that is really true in some ways. No matter how faded the memories become, how diminished the emotions are, it is impossible to forget that small, precious piece of life which remains untouched like a perfect, isolated world encased in a snow globe. Occasionally you'd gaze at it on your desk, and watch the snowflakes flutter down from the transparent skies of that carefully preserved world...and you would feel this wave of something, nostalgia and something else perhaps, which I can't quite explain. It's a strange thing really. So forlorn, so distant, and yet eerily beautiful, and I love watching it as everything swirls to a windy rhythm in that perfect, small world.
I'm glad I confessed to him four years ago. After all, if I didn't, my feelings for him would have gone silenced and concealed and probably became a burden that I'd have to shoulder over the years. In many ways it's a relief, a great relief. I'm glad that I was foolish. I'm glad that I had the courage. Well, really, should I not be glad?
I used to love him. And maybe even now, to some minute degree, I still do love him. Maybe I always will.
After all, this dismal thing called love is also a sweet thing. I won't regret it.
***~~~*Waited for the Winds at 12.04am*~~~
Monday, September 5, 2011
Where to start? I've been in a pretty good mood lately, very likely due to a new element of faith I've added to my established set of belief system, and sudden curious readings in philosophy as well as spiritual messages which resonate more keenly with my personal values. I've realised the need to be grounded and spiritual at the same time. What I lacked most for the past few weeks, and which caused major turmoils in my practical life and spiritual well-being, was a balance between the two; I was so anchored to earthly affairs that I turned down chances to cleanse myself of negative frequencies and keep myself spiritually attuned. And even though I was indeed aware of a small nagging at the back of my head, where idealism sits crowning the whole purpose of my life, I was too tired to pay much attention.
So yes, I still have my down times but life is reasonably much better in terms of perception. I have learnt to tune out some things and look to higher planes for comfort. This was an amazingly efficient way of keeping my emotions in check, because it reminds me that if I have not the tolerance for idealistic carrion, I could always choose not to deal with them at all.
Speaking of idealism, I have been reading an E-book titled "The Problems of Philosophy" and this has been my time-killer for the past few days. There were several pertinent dwellings with regards to the nature of existence and knowledge, typically debating the essence of matter, and knowledge acquired through acquaintance or knowledge through description. It was thought-provoking, and thought-provocation is good, as it woke me up from being a lifeless, apathetic drudge to an active individual who would seek to perceive realms beyond what has been revealed. Basically, it wakes me up to being who I used to be before the weight of life came crashing down. I want to live again, to truly live life as it is and not what it could have been.
I find myself thinking so much lately. It's a non-stop cognitive shroud over my head, in the bus, in the car, in-between lessons, in the darkness beneath my blanket...I just can't stop thinking. Something feels like it is coming to an end, something big and probably one of the major pillars of my current reality all this while. Sometimes I feel mildly disoriented, as if I'm ceasing to exist in this plane and stirring to wakefulness in some other. Sometimes I feel cross-eyed and can't quite walk steadily. And yet at other times I'm tired and feel as if time is warping or passing too fast. Strange feelings intrigue me in the scarce minutes before I fall asleep, fuzzy noises of randomness such as pots banging and static jumps, muddled voices speaking in different pitches and tones and a stranger language but which I understand, not due to the comprehension of the language itself, but due to the energies those utterances carry. The alpha state before sleep seems to have opened up a kind of doorway somehow.And whilst I most certainly did experience alpha states before, now these feelings and strange mild experiences have become more pertinent and longer-lasting.
It's interesting. I'm not afraid, not really, perhaps a little apprehensive but not fearful. Change is coming. I can feel the shifts, but not quite sure what for or where everything is headed. But change is definitely coming. And it's not the change Obama promised, nor the change Ghandi has so wisely explained in his famous quote, but something that we will ride upon as an undercurrent which will carry us into the new world.
Ascension.
So many things have yet to be explained. I'm but a passive idealist, currently attuning myself more to my spiritual connections so that I may get some guidance on how to proceed. Things are going to get interesting from here.
***~~~*Waited for the Winds at 10.52pm*~~~
Thanks to all the blogs the designer referred to (countless) for html code help :) (esp. cyn' and sixseven)
Adobe Photoshop Elements for supernatural abilities
