My Dream Boy

A friend of mine was asking about my dream boy the other day. See, it was a hard question to answer because I have an idea of what would be good boyfriend material, or what would be suitable husband material. But a dream boy? That's taking it into fantasy territory. At this moment in time though, the answer cannot be clearer.

My dream boy will have slightly curled chin-length hair, the kind that just about makes a pony-tail. He is tall, thin and pale... beautiful almost. He rides an awesome motorbike everywhere he goes and best of all, he keeps a helmet specially for me. He is a photographer and he makes me his art. In his eyes, I am the most beautiful. He is slightly awkward, reticent almost in front of strangers, but becomes the most charming creature when surrounded by those he dearly loves. Yes, my dream boy is a cliche. :) Who cares, someone like that should exist only in our imaginations. That way he can remain perfect and unattainable.

Midnight Restlessness

The most beautiful girl in the world.

Today, someone said the sweetest thing a boy could say to a girl, to me. Unfortunately, he was talking about someone else. :) The person's exact words?

"her beauty makes me smile"

Isn't that the loveliest set of words ever? Especially since it comes from a real life, slightly abashed human being and not some cliched media induced setting. Thing is, the girl that he was talking about wasn't exactly a publicly acknowledged beauty, and he knew that. But to him, she was the most stunning girl he had ever met, and no one else even came close.

I think I would be most happy if I ever had the chance to be as lucky as her.

The view outside my window

Just wanted to remember the colour of the sea.

Da Bomb

Inspired by the typhoon's gusty winds flapping my dress around like I am some superstar, I have decided to confess my deepest, darkest desire.

Are you ready?
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Wait for it
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I want someone to stop me on the road and go "Girl! You walk like You Da Bomb!"

Poe's magic

To___. 

by Edgar Allan Poe

Not long ago the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
Maintained the power of words-- denied that ever
A thought arose within the human brain
Beyond the utterance of the human tongue:
And now, as if in mockery of that boast,
Two words, two foreign soft dissyllables,
Italian tones, made only to be murmured
By angels dreaming in the moonlitdew
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill,
Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart
Unthought-like thoughts, that are the souls of thought, --
Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions
Than even the seraph harper, Israfel
(Who hasthe sweetest voice of all God's creatures),
Could hope to utter. And I -- my spells are broken;
The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand;
With thy dear name as text, though bidden by thee,
I cannot write -- I cannot speak or think --
Alas, I cannot feel; for 't is not feeling, --
This standing motionless upon the golden
Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams,
Gazing entranced adown the gorgeous vista,
And thrilling as I see, upon the right,
Upon the left, and all the way along,
Amid empurpled vapors, far away
To where the prospect terminates -- thee only.

"I work to financially support my family."

Today in class, we discussed the idea of work and family as ikigai i.e. that which makes our life worth living.

We explored the link between love and money and how these seemingly disparate concepts are inextricably intertwined in our lives. Often, we place monetary values on things that should not have price tags. For example, life insurance, is money a consolation prize for the death of a parent, a sister, a spouse? Can we really put a value to the life of a human being? Dating is also an interesting practice. More often than not, the man pays for the entertainment and the woman is expected to reciprocate with love, or affection or even intimate relations.

We like to think nobly of ourselves, that we are ultimately motivated in our actions by love. Truth is, money is never far behind.

The conversation made me think of my maids. I had two in my life. Wilma, who was around till I was about 13 and Riza who only recently left. Wilma played the role of mother to me, whilst my own mother and father were working. She cooked my meals, brought me to school, took me roller blading and brushed away my tears when they fell. Wilma was not my mother though, she was someone that my parents spent an average of 700 dollars a month to play the role of caretaker, to assume the parental responsibilities that my parents were too busy working to take up.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter and this is not a rant. In fact, I loved Wilma and my life is enriched for her presence in it. I'm just questioning the validity of the statement "I work to financially support my family." How many times have we heard that statement uttered. If so, then family and love seems to be the ikigai of these people. Why then do they spend so much time at work and so little time at home? Why do they use the money that they earned to hire someone else to spend time with and take care of their families, the very thing that is supposed to make their lives worth living? Especially since most of the families that hire maids are upper middle class and above, i.e. families that do not require the surplus cash that more time spent at work provides.

I don't deny though, that love as an excuse would make a lot of people feel much better about themselves. It's odd isn't it, we are socialised to value love and family above money and yet, we are also socialised under capitalism to evaluate social status using money.

All that said, I miss Wilma. I miss the woman that played the role of my mother for 12 years and then quit.

Encompassing God

From Thomas Nagel - What does it all mean?

The appeal to a religious meaning of life is a bit different. If you believe that the meaning of your life comes from fulfilling the purpose of god who loves you, and seeing him in eternity, then it does not seem appropriate to ask, "And what is the point of that?" It's supposed to be something which is its own point, and can't have a purpose outside itself. But for this very reason it has its own problems.

The idea of god seems to be the idea of something that can explain everything else, without having to be explained itself. But its very hard to understand how there could be such a thing. If we ask the question, "Why is the world like this?' and are offered a religious answer, how can we be prevented from asking again, "And why is that true?" What kind of answer would bring all our "Why?" questions to a stop, once and for all? And if they can stop there, why couldn't they have stopped earlier?

The same problem seems to arise if God and His purposes are offered as the ultimate explanation of the value and the meaning of our lives. The idea that our lives fulfill God's purpose is supposed to give them their point, in a way that doesn't require or admit of any further point. One isn't supposed to ask "What is the point of God?" any more than one is supposed to ask, "What is the explanation of God?"

But my problem here, as with the role of God as ultimate explanation, is that I'm not sure I understand the idea. Can something really be something which gives a point to everything else by encompassing it, but couldn't have, or need, any point itself? Something whose point cannot be questioned from the outside because there is no outside?

If God is supposed to give our lives a meaning that we can't understand, it's not much of a consolation. God as ultimate justification, like God as ultimate explanation, may be an incomprehensible answer to a question that we can't get rid of. On the other hand, maybe that's the whole point, and maybe I am just failing to understand religious ideas. Perhaps the belief in God is the belief that the universe is intelligible, but not to us.

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I just thought the above excerpt was a wonderfully eloquent piece of writing that so accurately captures the kind of struggle Christians have with appropriate questioning. By which I mean it seems as if every question and every dilemma has but one end and one answer, for God is all encompassing and in being so, ultimately restrictive.

Decisions

From an article in the nytimes about decision fatigue. (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/21/magazine/do-you-suffer-from-decision-fatigue.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&ref=general&src=me)

"Part of the resistance against making decisions comes from our fear of giving up options. The word “decide” shares an etymological root with “homicide,” the Latin word “caedere,” meaning “to cut down” or “to kill,” and that loss looms especially large when decision fatigue sets in."

I'm hiding behind this!

Grace

I love Grace, she always puts things in perspective for me.

Me: I spent the entire day shut in my room sobbing and listening to Skyscraper by Demi Lovato.
Grace: That is so f****** emo.

Me: I feel like I progressed too quickly. I tried to do the right thing, but I am not ready for it. That's why I am miserable.
Grace: The deed should come first, that is how you become a better person. (Okay, I must admit that I don't remember the exact words, but this is the gist of it.)

My sister, what would I do without her.