examining life
I can't believe I lost my scissors the 2nd time today. Ahrg. I will NOT be hounded by it. I will not. It's just there...somewhere...and I'll find it. Eventually. In the meantime, I will focus my energies on deconstructing my inner demons. Hello, Angst. I thought I was done with you.
It sometimes doesn't feel real, this life I'm living. There are times when I walk (and I do love walking and I'll be forever grateful to the Island for allowing me one of these pleasures I will never get in good ole Manila) and I feel detached from myself. Have any of you ever experienced this or am I just that weird? I know I'm walking and I'm aware of the things I pass and the heat or the greenery around me or whizzing cars or whatever but I'm also aware that I'm aware of the things around me. It's like having a meta-narrative or whatever that fancy lit term was, only with my life as the text.
In this meta-narrative, I get this sensation of waiting--waiting to burst onto the scene, waiting for my time, waiting to take the world by storm. One of my biggest psychosis, I think, was growing up believing (firmly at that) that I will, one day, save the world or some other similar dream of grandness. The quiet life of the status quo, to me, was mediocre and my snobby little self turned its nose away from it. I wanted to DO things and BE someone. On hindsight, I think this is the worse kind of delusion one can ever indulge in. I realize that such fantasies are common among seven or eight year olds; I never figured out, however, why I never grew out of it. Maybe it's part of being a Leo? Maybe it's because I'm a Fong. Maybe, maybe...I'm just plain ornery.
Perhaps the biggest lesson one learns while growing up is one's own humanity.
It sometimes doesn't feel real, this life I'm living. There are times when I walk (and I do love walking and I'll be forever grateful to the Island for allowing me one of these pleasures I will never get in good ole Manila) and I feel detached from myself. Have any of you ever experienced this or am I just that weird? I know I'm walking and I'm aware of the things I pass and the heat or the greenery around me or whizzing cars or whatever but I'm also aware that I'm aware of the things around me. It's like having a meta-narrative or whatever that fancy lit term was, only with my life as the text.
In this meta-narrative, I get this sensation of waiting--waiting to burst onto the scene, waiting for my time, waiting to take the world by storm. One of my biggest psychosis, I think, was growing up believing (firmly at that) that I will, one day, save the world or some other similar dream of grandness. The quiet life of the status quo, to me, was mediocre and my snobby little self turned its nose away from it. I wanted to DO things and BE someone. On hindsight, I think this is the worse kind of delusion one can ever indulge in. I realize that such fantasies are common among seven or eight year olds; I never figured out, however, why I never grew out of it. Maybe it's part of being a Leo? Maybe it's because I'm a Fong. Maybe, maybe...I'm just plain ornery.
Perhaps the biggest lesson one learns while growing up is one's own humanity.