 | | |
| | |
|
Spaces home  The CharlatanPhotosProfileFriendsMore |  Tools   |
The Charlatan★★ The furthest boundaries a man's faith can reach lie not in reason, but in love. Your place in my mind is higher than any rocket plane can fly, so keep on flying baby, because you're taking me with you. ★★
July 19 Subjective Recollections of a World That Once Was: Part 27 And so the choler is renascent, after halcyon
dormancy. The beginning is yet to arrive and already the skies glow of a
darkened hue. An intangible, invisible insecurity is creeping in the corner,
planning its every move, but there must be a remedy for this. I will not take
it, not again. By the by, on a less grave note, I lately gathered a collection
of gadgets, old and new. The long abandoned PSP, now fed by a newly acquired
charger is ecstatically working its way into my interest again as I twiddled
around with the little analog and buttons. It along with the iPhone serve as
display monitors as well, for memories perhaps? These are the ones that are now
gradually, unwillingly being coated layer by layer by dust and indifference,
yet amidst the impending despondency, hidden is a wisp of hope. What is hope?
Hope is the thundering rain on a boiling summer day, the dying ember that
strives to keep warmth alive on an icy blistering winter night, and the smile
you receive on the worst day of your life. So I say, let there be hope. July 13 Subjective Recollections of a World That Once Was: Part 26 Marketing is a killer major that will lead you
to a hopeless career path, or so I was apprised of this evening at suppertime.
Okay…that wasn’t really quite the encouragement I was anticipating coming from
a marketing specialist, but all right, I can cope with that. I apportion a credit
of my present wisdom about the world and life in general on decisions and judgment
to one authority: Josh Stimac, my history teacher whom I was never a student of
(while ironic, true). Yes, he once said to me: “Never, Jeff, ever make
generalizations about any topic in life.” Thus, the failure of a predecessor
does not imply the failure of a successor. Moreover, the action of partnering
disciplines in finance to my plan may play a key role in conquering the
otherwise insurmountable and imminent roadblocks. I have also recently
discovered a few of my potential colleagues, and to be utterly candid, I did
not feel at all comfortable, just because their picture-perfect concept of
university life is far from my own conservative model. Yet, fear not, self, it
is once again vital that we shall not define a populace by a various few. On a
lighter note, I have been wrestling with the notion of separation quite
ruthlessly these past few days, tossing faithless thoughts and scrambling random
possible events together, and unearthing the intrinsic reality of it all. Are
not long distance relationship success stories all just prinked up in romantic
fashions anyway, expelling the grueling aspects buried in the whole package? July 04 Subjective Recollections of a World That Once Was: Part 25 Materialism is a lurking leech that sucks the
life out of a man. To be surfeited in extravagant gourmet, lavished in shining
opulence, and overwhelmed by ecstasy are the very egocentric goals of man.
Ideals of eclectic pleasures have become magazine covers, billboards, and
television commercials, invading the neural systems of humanity. Life is but a
dream, and a requiem will surely be in demand at the midlife. It hinders me
not, whether I will continue this pursuit of happiness, for this happiness is
ephemeral like fireworks, and the aftermath is what veraciously numbs the mind.
From ages to ages we fall and collapse in indulgence, and yet from ashes to
ashes we will never surrender this journey to Cockaigne. All the while, the
answer is right there in front of us. But we choose to look anywhere but
forward, and we choose our tragic destinies in our own transgressions. June 27 Subjective Recollections of a World That Once Was: Part 24 Swiss army knives. I love that analogy. That is
part of the very reason I am continuously impressed by Mrs. Ward, I guess. We,
the Swiss army knives of the year, those of the utmost utility, are about to be
placed to our toughest tests. Without regret, I claim the honor to announce
that my entire class as a whole tonight has reunited. I had anticipated a much
more lachrymose ambience, given experiences from previous years’ graduations.
Yet, at this precise ceremony, an intangible air of positivity lingered about.
The festivity startled me, not because I had not expected the ceremonial
procedures, but because my apprehensions failed to accurately approximate the
greater extents to which the event will carry my emotions. I cannot, meanwhile,
help myself from noticing an irritable condition. The persistent influx of praise raised me
to an uncomfortably awkward level of embarrassment. Perhaps it is not my nature to receive
compliments in excess, and therefore I often ponder on the characters of those
who adore these kinds of activities. But enough on my idiosyncrasy for now, I
must proceed to celebrate the night. Essentially, we have stepped into a stage
of life that requires us to be more mature, although we as flawed beings don’t
always handle the role all that strategically. Prepared I am, and pray I will
for those in timidity of the future. It’s like you’re a hermit crab stepping
out of your shell, at least for some of us. Fortunately for me, I’ve been
equipped with supersonic detectors to accurately seek and discover suitable
shells in the vastly deserted and highly capricious sea. I have on my back
ultraviolet beamers to help me weave through the seaweed and sharks that stand
in my way. Well, maybe some things slightly smaller than sharks. Okay I can
tell my analogous techniques are failing me once again, so here I shall cease.
Graduation? Check. June 20 Subjective Recollections of a World That Once Was: Part 23 What to do, what to do, when the sky comes
crashing down to you? There is an arbitrary pause, when your life flashes
before your eyes, and you are about to sever all your ties. One, moving is a
burden, a vast boulder to carry. Two, the girl of my life is walking out of it
in exactly four days, well not wholly, just physically. Three, companions are
looking for a year end feast…that lasts weeks. Stop, drop, and roll into my
little hole called peace; that is my most appealing option at the moment. I can
climb up to life’s zenith, squint down at all the details that have composed
this tragic masterpiece, and flare up all the bridging dreams. Or, I can take
an enormous whale breath, and gradually let everything settle in, digest them,
and be “a man.” Oh yes, speaking of dreams, I had one quite outlandishly plotted
last night. Flashbacks of a past life seemed to take its final blow at me,
giving me all they got, desperately propelling themselves to reach and slash me
into shards again. This just in: I have changed, and recently purchased awesome
new platinum-lined wings, equipped with sensory units to guide me through fog
and hail. So, flashbacks can kiss my shiny metal ass, or in this case, wings. June 13 Subjective Recollections of a World That Once Was: Part 22Returning from the elongated spring trip, I
began reminiscing occurrences in the past week and resolved to journaling. In
fact, I had this all mentally sorted out during and immediately after the
happenings, but of course, I had no means of journaling and thus must now
record my thoughts aright. Well, to unveil the bad news first, I was utterly
appalled by one particular person whom, I am not quite sure I will ever
forgive. It is neither obstinacy nor vengeance I am aiming at, but merely the
reassessment of my companionships. Words hurt barely more than a few stabs at
the heart, figuratively, but actions lurk far beyond acceptance. As if I had
not suffered enough umbrage and bafflement from this precise relation, I was
finally enlightened on the early days of this voyage to a new perspective of
life in general, and realized that friends are select, never random nor
superficial. Those of the latter category do not qualify as friends, since the
ramifications resulting from these relations are sometimes volatile and
nebulous. That said, I believe it is high time to move on with my personal life
as I have much set out before me to handle and maneuver. Regarding the
highlights of the itinerary, bonding was surely it. There is nothing like
laughter, jolly, jocularity, creativity, and emotional exchanges. To mention a
few gems of my life at this particular point, Kevin Eom became one of my
closest associates, as did Jonathan Hanson, and of course, Carol Park, as we
are all probably equally familiar with her by this portion of the story.
Without these people balancing my conscience and unceasingly filling me with
insight, I would be but a soul without compassion and without empathy.
Filtering out the incessant entropy in my memory bank is one feature I have
acquired, yet will have to master as time pulls me along. I will turn back and
recall these realities one day in the distant future, whether dead or alive,
whether in paradise or on Earth, whether sane or insane. June 06 Subjective Recollections of a World That Once Was: Part 21 The halcyon years in which the bulk of my
childhood was indulged in had been absent of any religious or philosophical
dilemma. Those were the days I had little else to worry about than to solve
simplistic mathematical problems as “4 multiplied by 7” and basic reading
assignments that read like “Ponytail was jumped.” The preceding stages of
development led into a profound section of volatile hormonal periods,
materialistic superiority, and finally early teen relationships. That was then,
back about two years ago. Precisely a year and a half ago began the maturing
progress of my puberty. About time as well. Yet, it was not until as recent as
three, or could it be six months ago, had I began digging for the roots of
worldly ideologies that, when buttressed by “evidence” and reiterated
statements, seemed utterly impeccable. Meanwhile, there must only be one truth.
That is the beauty of life. It is
directed not in one obtuse manner, but in the most flexible equation that would
stump any physicist. Evolutionists claim that the beauty of science is its
elasticity in the face of change, but my perplexed mind is asking how that
would be a beauty, because if truth was simply resilient to evidence, then how
in the name of science itself can it be relied upon, for could not one argue
that the sky may very well not be
blue and be proven so in the future? The certain absolute qualities in the very
core of our morality are grounded if the condition is presumed to be humane. It
is evident that if one is subject to incessant brainwashing or malicious
influence, there is no avoiding of some or extreme distortion to this man’s
very concept of truth and morality. God did not intend for humans to commit the
mass murdering or repulsive rapes, he simply granted us free will, and that
included the free will to rest our belief in Himself or to not.
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
Invite as friend
