of runaway bullet trains and antigravity; some sort of manifesto?
it's 2am and in all summer glory, i am still up, even if i have a meeting later at 10am. to be quite honest, i feel undaunted by the coming months. i know that in no way will the coming stretch be easy. i'm looking at academics enough to drive your regular filipino juan tamad to throw himself off a cliff. i'm also looking at enough organizational work to make even midnight oil burners cringe in despair. it's going to be another year of late nights spent doing work, and early evenings spent wasting time. mornings will be dedicated to sleep, so will a lot of class time. it's a strange sensation, not being afraid. i feel like i'm standing on train tracks with the shinkanzen thirty seconds away. i hear the sonic boom before the actual thing arrives; the shock sets in before the sensation.
it's not a particularly courageous thing to do--stand in front of a speeding (300km/h, no less) train. it's like knocking on the door of your girlfriend's house--only that you're there to introduce yourself to her father as the father of his grandchild. yes, this act of defiance is not bravery. and though many say that a thin line separates bravery and stupidity, neither is it the latter. i feel this overwhelming sense of foregone triumph, and quite possibly, it's probably just the disbelief in me pushing me to stand in place. i'm static. i believe i can stare down that bullet train, and should it devour me, i believe i would have lost everything in the seconds prior to my own demise anyway.
and on the instant of impact, for the first time in my life, i will probably feel what it's like to be bigger than my body. it's not a tragic scene, it's release. it's the sky kissing me and the ground finally letting go. no, it's not flight. flight entails some force still pulling me towards the center of the earth. this is antigravity, this is the liberation of all that is good, just, beautiful, intel inside. and when my body has failed me, then all that will remain is the intersection of who i should be and what does not limit me.
if it's over, good bye, h. hello, bullet train.
it's not a particularly courageous thing to do--stand in front of a speeding (300km/h, no less) train. it's like knocking on the door of your girlfriend's house--only that you're there to introduce yourself to her father as the father of his grandchild. yes, this act of defiance is not bravery. and though many say that a thin line separates bravery and stupidity, neither is it the latter. i feel this overwhelming sense of foregone triumph, and quite possibly, it's probably just the disbelief in me pushing me to stand in place. i'm static. i believe i can stare down that bullet train, and should it devour me, i believe i would have lost everything in the seconds prior to my own demise anyway.
and on the instant of impact, for the first time in my life, i will probably feel what it's like to be bigger than my body. it's not a tragic scene, it's release. it's the sky kissing me and the ground finally letting go. no, it's not flight. flight entails some force still pulling me towards the center of the earth. this is antigravity, this is the liberation of all that is good, just, beautiful, intel inside. and when my body has failed me, then all that will remain is the intersection of who i should be and what does not limit me.
if it's over, good bye, h. hello, bullet train.