just a thought: we wish on shooting stars. but shooting stars are space debris that burn as it enters the earth's atmosphere, the burning is what we see. So technically, we wish on something that ceases to exist as soon as we become aware of it.
and similarly: it takes lightyears upon lightyears for the twinkle of distant stars to reach the earth. And so, when we look up at the night sky, we are actually looking at the very essence of time- the presentness of the night sky, the past of the light of the stars, and the future of our own gazes reaching those stars lightyears upon lightyears from now. Doesn't it strike you as interesting that the very star you may be looking at now might not even exist anymore? And maybe by the time our whispered wishes reach the stars somewhere out there, we don't want them to come true anymore.
The past illuminates the way to the future, indeed.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Fearing the Future
I have been meaning to write about recent decisions that have been made in my life. In the past few months, I had to finalize my decisions regarding what University to attend, what course/major to take, which ties I would valiantly keep alive, and which, as sad as it is inevitable, I would let succumb to the ravages of time.
All in all, most of my decisions have been tainted with some notion of fear, regret and nostalgia. Well, fine, of course there is also the exciting rush of starting on a new chapter of life, and growing beyond present boundaries and all, but still, I have never been one for leaving my comfort zone. People argue that High School lasted for 4 years for a reason, and that my friends during those years would be my friends for the rest of my life, but still, there is a sense of fear in losing things.
Especially considering the fact that those I am closest to, I have known, literally, since i was 6 years old, have been classmates for most of those years since, and that i have practically grown extra appendages and organs for the sakes of these people; the idea, therefore, of suddenly going our own ways is filled with a surreality that generates an even more real sense of fear in me.
The summer has been hot, and filled with parties and "reunions". It's funny, really, how just a few weeks since graduation, we actually have the audacity to call our outings "reunions". Granted, the get-togethers also double as despedidas for friends pursuing further education in other countries, but still, I can't help but feel that they generate an artifical sense of continuity- as if reunions will always be this common and this mundane. Due to these constant get-togethers, it makes it even harder for me to accept or even imagine how it would be when these guys and I would meet only once every year, or even less. I can't imagine how it would be to not anymore be on the same spheres of understanding and knowledge. God, how the hell can we possibly be in different fields of expertise 4 years from now?
Then again, I'm probably just being an illusioned, sentimental fool. Enter cynic.
To be honest, this isn't the first time I'm going to say goodbye. I graduated from elementary school 4 years ago, where I also had a group of constant classmates for 4 of the 8 years. Granted, a vast majority of us ended up going to the same high school (and ending up in the same section, to boot), but a few of us still pursued different paths in different schools. At the time, I also couldn't imagine how I could possibly say goodbye to those people, and I was actually on the semi-verge of being on the verge of breaking down. But time passed, and here I am, remarkably happy for the past four years, the fear of those preceding non-existent.
We had a reunion (the group from those grade school days) just the other day. We actually still had a lot to talk about, really. And, true to form, we talked about our common days. One of us was a valedictorian, more than one was a merit scholar, one had a girlfriend from Poveda, and I was myself. We had pursued (or somehow reached) different points from when we were in grade school, but we still had trivial, but nonetheless endearing, things in common. And this, I imagine (hopefully) will also be the case with my high school class.
conclusion:
Forgive the prior exposition, but I felt it necessary to support the following conclusion. I think what I have wrong with me is that I imagine things too far into the future too immediately. I can't help but imagine what our (highschool friends, grade school friends, or any, really) situations will be years from now, instead of learning to deal with things day by day. I simply take our current standing, add 10 years of isolation, and theoritize. Inevitably, all I am able to imagine are the losses, the separation, the distancing. I am unable to break things down to the day by day situations that time will present. The forcing and pushing of time fate and situation to new people, and to easier letting go. The future won't really force me to drop relationships like a lead weight from a building rooftop. I think that these things will just be like a rope, continually slackening until I suddenly find myself free from the sentimental ties that bind me to these things- until I willingly return and cherish the memories.
Maybe fearing the future is as apt as it is stupid. After all, it's what is motivating me to hold on to as much as I can, but at the same time, it is as irrational as it can come. All in all, it's a fruitless venture to hold on to the past that will end in vain. But we continue to fear, and to hold on, all the same.
cue sisyphus.
All in all, most of my decisions have been tainted with some notion of fear, regret and nostalgia. Well, fine, of course there is also the exciting rush of starting on a new chapter of life, and growing beyond present boundaries and all, but still, I have never been one for leaving my comfort zone. People argue that High School lasted for 4 years for a reason, and that my friends during those years would be my friends for the rest of my life, but still, there is a sense of fear in losing things.
Especially considering the fact that those I am closest to, I have known, literally, since i was 6 years old, have been classmates for most of those years since, and that i have practically grown extra appendages and organs for the sakes of these people; the idea, therefore, of suddenly going our own ways is filled with a surreality that generates an even more real sense of fear in me.
The summer has been hot, and filled with parties and "reunions". It's funny, really, how just a few weeks since graduation, we actually have the audacity to call our outings "reunions". Granted, the get-togethers also double as despedidas for friends pursuing further education in other countries, but still, I can't help but feel that they generate an artifical sense of continuity- as if reunions will always be this common and this mundane. Due to these constant get-togethers, it makes it even harder for me to accept or even imagine how it would be when these guys and I would meet only once every year, or even less. I can't imagine how it would be to not anymore be on the same spheres of understanding and knowledge. God, how the hell can we possibly be in different fields of expertise 4 years from now?
Then again, I'm probably just being an illusioned, sentimental fool. Enter cynic.
To be honest, this isn't the first time I'm going to say goodbye. I graduated from elementary school 4 years ago, where I also had a group of constant classmates for 4 of the 8 years. Granted, a vast majority of us ended up going to the same high school (and ending up in the same section, to boot), but a few of us still pursued different paths in different schools. At the time, I also couldn't imagine how I could possibly say goodbye to those people, and I was actually on the semi-verge of being on the verge of breaking down. But time passed, and here I am, remarkably happy for the past four years, the fear of those preceding non-existent.
We had a reunion (the group from those grade school days) just the other day. We actually still had a lot to talk about, really. And, true to form, we talked about our common days. One of us was a valedictorian, more than one was a merit scholar, one had a girlfriend from Poveda, and I was myself. We had pursued (or somehow reached) different points from when we were in grade school, but we still had trivial, but nonetheless endearing, things in common. And this, I imagine (hopefully) will also be the case with my high school class.
conclusion:
Forgive the prior exposition, but I felt it necessary to support the following conclusion. I think what I have wrong with me is that I imagine things too far into the future too immediately. I can't help but imagine what our (highschool friends, grade school friends, or any, really) situations will be years from now, instead of learning to deal with things day by day. I simply take our current standing, add 10 years of isolation, and theoritize. Inevitably, all I am able to imagine are the losses, the separation, the distancing. I am unable to break things down to the day by day situations that time will present. The forcing and pushing of time fate and situation to new people, and to easier letting go. The future won't really force me to drop relationships like a lead weight from a building rooftop. I think that these things will just be like a rope, continually slackening until I suddenly find myself free from the sentimental ties that bind me to these things- until I willingly return and cherish the memories.
Maybe fearing the future is as apt as it is stupid. After all, it's what is motivating me to hold on to as much as I can, but at the same time, it is as irrational as it can come. All in all, it's a fruitless venture to hold on to the past that will end in vain. But we continue to fear, and to hold on, all the same.
cue sisyphus.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Damn the Roses
Our good friend Will did indeed say that a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet. This, however, has no real relevance to this blog entry- i just wanted to get off on the right, literary-savvy foot.
What I mean to say is that I want to clear up any confusion that there may be regarding this blog's title. Sisyphussy is not, if you were thinking, a juxtaposition of the two words "sissy" and "pussy" (both dwelling in some similar realm of meaning, ironically), made more politically correct by both being misspelled. Nope. Sisyphussy is, actually, culled from one of my favorite (yeah right) characters from Greek Mythology- Sisyphus.
Sisyphus, you see, was a king with a very sad name, and he was often teased as a child because of his very unfortunate name. However, his parents (feeling just a tad bit of remorse for naming their kid such) kept on telling him that Sisyphus, no matter how gay his name may be, is still a grand name meant for a grand person.
and Sisyphus took that encouragement seriously. In fact, so seriously did he take that little pep talk that when he grew up and became king (after singing with a lion cub and some weird blue bird; dancing in the forest with a pig and killing his sexily-tanned uncle) he became so convinced of his ruling powers.
And then, like most Greek Mythology characters, he committed a stupid mistake.
He challenged Zeus, Lord Daddy of all their gods, and said that he was better than any thunderbolt weilding, toga-wearing, hairy nippled Patriarch God.
Smart Sisyphus, Smart.
If you are unfamiliar with even the most basic of schisms in Greek Mythology, then allow me to enlighten you. Whenever someone challenges a god, said god takes revenge in a totally unfair way. And so, Zeus (in all his bitchy envy) took his revenge on Sisyphus and damned him such that when he entered Tartarus (hell), he was cursed to roll a boulder up a hill, only to see it roll back down at the end of the day. The next day, he'd do the same thing, and so on and so forth.
(as to why he even would've wanted a boulder on a hill is beyond me, though.)
And hence "Sisyphussy"- adj. 1.)a state of being initially repressed and tortured 2.)a subsequent state of arrogance and gross self-confidence 3.)a final state of severe frustration, particularly in attempting to accomplish stupid, unattainable tasks 4.)a sissy pussy 5.)the complete opposite of all of the above [antonym: "sisyphussy"]
go figure.
heeeeeeeeeeeeey, the roses ended up having some relevance after all.
What I mean to say is that I want to clear up any confusion that there may be regarding this blog's title. Sisyphussy is not, if you were thinking, a juxtaposition of the two words "sissy" and "pussy" (both dwelling in some similar realm of meaning, ironically), made more politically correct by both being misspelled. Nope. Sisyphussy is, actually, culled from one of my favorite (yeah right) characters from Greek Mythology- Sisyphus.
Sisyphus, you see, was a king with a very sad name, and he was often teased as a child because of his very unfortunate name. However, his parents (feeling just a tad bit of remorse for naming their kid such) kept on telling him that Sisyphus, no matter how gay his name may be, is still a grand name meant for a grand person.
and Sisyphus took that encouragement seriously. In fact, so seriously did he take that little pep talk that when he grew up and became king (after singing with a lion cub and some weird blue bird; dancing in the forest with a pig and killing his sexily-tanned uncle) he became so convinced of his ruling powers.
And then, like most Greek Mythology characters, he committed a stupid mistake.
He challenged Zeus, Lord Daddy of all their gods, and said that he was better than any thunderbolt weilding, toga-wearing, hairy nippled Patriarch God.
Smart Sisyphus, Smart.
If you are unfamiliar with even the most basic of schisms in Greek Mythology, then allow me to enlighten you. Whenever someone challenges a god, said god takes revenge in a totally unfair way. And so, Zeus (in all his bitchy envy) took his revenge on Sisyphus and damned him such that when he entered Tartarus (hell), he was cursed to roll a boulder up a hill, only to see it roll back down at the end of the day. The next day, he'd do the same thing, and so on and so forth.
(as to why he even would've wanted a boulder on a hill is beyond me, though.)
And hence "Sisyphussy"
go figure.
heeeeeeeeeeeeey, the roses ended up having some relevance after all.
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